


Forever and Always

by Kara_Writes (Nunchi_Writes)



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angels, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Blood, Character Death, Demons, Depression, Depressive Thoughts, Existential Crisis, F/M, I literally don't know how to not write slow burns guys, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kinda?, Murder, Mystical Creatures, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing, Violence, Were-Creatures, Witch Curses, Witches, Zombies, everyone in exo ot9 make an appearance in at least one chapter, no beta we die like men, these creatures are unknown to humans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-09-24 21:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17108621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nunchi_Writes/pseuds/Kara_Writes
Summary: “Death would be too kind of a punishment for you, as you’re likely a child of God like the rest of you blasted humans, so I give you the curse of life. You will remain alive and healthy as everything you know and love ceases to be! Even if you wish for death, you’ll never get it!”That witch was right. For over 600 years you lived to watch everything crumble and perish, then have something new be built over it. For over 600 years you met and got attached to different versions of your soulmate, just to watch them die soon after. You can’t have him die again, though. Not this time. You’ll go to any lengths to guarantee he lives this time around.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Minor gore, swearing, brief mentioning of abuse, character death

   “Y/n!” a familiar voice stirs you from your blissful sleep. “Y/n! Wake up dear!”

   You groan loudly and snuggle into your wool blanket even further, “The sun isn’t even up yet, what do you want, mother?”

   “We were going to the market to buy your father a new hunting bow today! And for your information, it is fall. You know the sun doesn’t rise until later during these chilly months! Now get up!” Your mother kindly yanks the fur and wool blankets off of you, leaving you freezing from the drafts in your small room. You don’t appreciate this in the slightest, and groan even louder in protest.

   “I thought we were doing that tomorrow? Not today?” You attempt to grab your blankets, but clothes meant for cold weather get handed to you instead. You give in and stretch any sleepiness away.

   “Nope! It’s today! Now hurry and get dressed! It’s a half-a-days walk to the good market in the town. Who knows, maybe you’ll finally find your soulmate? Hmm?” The older woman teases as she bounces out of the room, closing your splintering door behind her.

   It’s an ongoing joke between your mother and yourself, your soul mark, that is. When you first got the black, swirly design on your left foot on your 15th birthday like everyone else, you were fully convinced that you would be one of the rare people who finds the other person with the matching soul mark. It is said that someone’s soulmate could be located anywhere in the world, and in your 21 years of existence, you’ve only met one couple that has met their other half. You don’t know what possessed you to think that something as magnificent as that would happen to a mere hunter’s daughter like you, but neither of your parents will let you forget it.

   Now, the mark on your foot only proves to be something that’s easy to hide, so people don’t question or comment on it as much. You couldn’t imagine being one of the poor blokes who’s soul mark appeared on one of their arms or legs, or worse, on their neck or hands where there’s not much that can be done to hide it. It’s not that you’re ashamed of the mark itself, you’re just ashamed of how you used to think regarding it. You’ve completely accepted that you’re going to marry someone who doesn’t share this black mark with you by now, and you don’t need reminders of the false hope you had at one point.

   You get changed into your fur clothes and hide from the cold that’s creeping into your room. If there’s one good thing about your father being a hunter, it’s the warm clothes and fresh meat your family gets from the less-than-satisfactory kills from the hunts. You get up and finally leave your room. The smell of the breakfast being served on your wooden table invades your nose, and you hastily sit and eat. Your mother practically shoves you out the door once you have finished, marking the start of your lengthy walk.

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

   The sun is almost at its peak when the two of you finally make it to the market. Your feet are sore from walking, and you’re exhausted from being woken up prematurely this morning. You stayed up late last night, finishing the last of the baskets you and your mother weave to sell, since it’s the only reason why you still happily live with your parents, unwed. In fact, she brought a few of your baskets with her today, just in case someone was interested in them. Someone usually is.

   “Excuse me? Mam? With the baskets?”  _Speak of the devil…_

   “Oh! Hello! Can I help you?” Your mother asks sweetly with her signature welcoming smile. You take that as your cue to head over to the blacksmith’s shop without her.

   After a bit of weaving between people, you can finally hear the familiar pinging of metal slamming against metal. You head in that direction immediately, hoping your mother understands that you went to the weapons store without her.

   You walk up the steps to the small weaponry shop, glancing quickly to the man at the forge on your right. You’re about to open the door and step inside, but a shout and the clanging of metal hitting the ground stops you in your tracks. You look around behind you to see that not one person has moved to help whoever is in the forge. The most they did was freeze right after the sound, then went on their merry way again. Therefore, before you can convince yourself that it’s a bad idea, you duck under the rope barrier separating the shop entrance and forge area to see what happened.

   The man, who can’t be much older than you, is crouching on the ground as he clutches his hand to his chest. His brown hair is partially covering his face, and he isn’t making any noticeable sounds, so you can’t judge how much pain he’s actually in. You opt to walk back over to the shop entrance where you noticed a small bucket of water sitting by the wall, and tentatively stick your finger tip in it. It’s very cold from the autumn weather, perfect for soothing pain, as far as you know.

   You pick it up and bring it back to the man, who is now cradling his bare left hand with gloved right one, seemingly looking around for something in particular. You gladly don’t see any blood anywhere, so it must be a burn of some sort. The guy has stopped searching for whatever it was that he was looking for, and is now staring at you curiously. You set the bucket down directly in front of him as if it holds the answer to all of his questions, which it somewhat does.

   “You look hurt, so I got some cold water for your hand.”

   “Thank you…?” The young man trails off, wordlessly asking for what to call you. He takes off his right glove, revealing his soul mark.  _That’s gotta suck, having it out in the open on the back of his hand like that. Everyone must ask about it._

   “Y/n.” You answer with a polite smile.

   “Y/n… That’s a nice name. You can call me Lay.” he tells you, crouching down and putting his hands in the water, his right one lightly massaging his injured one.

   You crouch besides Lay with a nod, helping him roll up his sleeves a tad to avoid them getting wet, since he got his hands wet already. It’s then that you realize the black pattern on his uninjured hand looks very rather familiar. Without warning you step back and rip off your left boot and sock to reveal your own soul mark. You look back up towards Lay’s hand at the same time you feel your foot tingle. Both of your marks turn from black to blue.

   You found your soulmate.

   You look into Lay’s eyes, and he meets yours with matching excitement and disbelief.

   “Lay’s a great name, too.” You awkwardly manage to get out.

   Your entire face is hurting from how largely you’re smiling, but you can’t find yourself to be truly bothered. You just found your soulmate! How could someone be bothered by something as small as aching cheeks and freezing toes at a time like this? Actually, your foot is beginning to get too cold to tolerate any longer, so you break eye-contact with Lay for just a few seconds, so you can put your boot back on again.

   When you look up, he has inched closer to you with both of his hands relatively dry. He slowly lifts his uninjured hand and places it on your left cheek. Despite how freezing it is, you don’t flinch or move away at all, afraid that you’ll ruin the moment. He places his left hand on your other cheek with the same caution as the one before. A full moment passes before he speaks, his voice just over a whisper.

   “I didn’t think I’d find you. I didn’t think it was possible.”

   “Nor did I.” you breathe out. You notice how he glances down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

   “May I…?” He leans in just slightly, giving you enough time and room to back out if you wanted. Men like this are quite literally impossible to find, and you find yourself thanking whatever or whoever decides who your soulmate is for pairing you with this living angel.

   “Of course.”

   You lean in a bit more, allowing your eyes to flutter shut, and your lips gently meet.

   It’s a very slow and cautious kiss, simply testing out the new feeling. There is a strong energy where his hands are holding your face and his lips are meeting yours. It was there before, but only as a light hum. Now, though, it’s much stronger and much harder to ignore, it’s not a bad thing though. On the contrary, actually, you’re not sure if you could go another day without feeling this energy. The kiss itself is more gentle now, rather than cautious, full of passion and relief and happiness and so much more.

   It ends all too soon, and you don’t realize that your hands came up to rest on his shoulders until now, when you’re dropping them to your sides again. Lay catches them with his own, though, leaving your face in a chill. Your faces are still close to one another’s and flushed pink, and your eyes meet his sparkling brown ones with the same emotions as the kiss filling them. Lay is the one who breaks the lengthy, comfortable silence.

   “So where are you from, Y/n?”

   You chuckle softly, amused by how much you  _don’t_  know about each other. His closed-mouthed smile expanding into a full smile again at the sound.

   “I live with my parents, half-a-days walk north west from here. I assume you live nearby?”

   “You could say that. I’ve been staying at a nearby inn run by some of my wife’s relatives while I’ve been working here. I don’t have my own place to call home in this country quite yet, though.”

   “I’m sure you’ll find somewhe-”

   “Y/n! What are you doing?” you groan as your mother’s voice grows nearer, “I thought you already bought the bow! What are you doing over there?” You back away a bit from Lay and stand, only pausing to help him up to his feet.

   “I was going to, but then I got distrac-”

   “I’m well aware you got distracted. Now who’s this man that stole your attention?” At this point, you can’t tell if she’s genuinely agitated with you anymore, of she’s teasing you again.

   “This is Lay. Lay, this is my mother. And, um…” You silently ask Lay for his right hand. He holds it up in the air as a response, showing off his blue design to your mother. She immediately gasps, and carefully steps over the rope barrier.

   “You found your soulmate! Y/n!” She bounded over and wrapped her arms around your shoulder, squeezing the life out of you. “You lucky girl! I guess you were right about finding him all that time ago!”

   “ _Mom_ …” you almost growl out. You just met the guy, he doesn’t need to know about those embarrassing times. Not yet, anyway. The older woman takes the hint and backs off of you, only enough to take a step sideways and grip Lay’s hands with her own. It seemed like it was a sign of acceptance and delight, but you know it’s probably to get a better look at the soul mark you’ve been actively hiding on your foot. They’re identical, after all.

   “Lay is a fine name for such a fine young man.” She beams, looking him up and down. He smiles back politely, obviously not knowing how to properly respond. Your mother makes it easier for him, though, “How old are you?”

   “I’m twenty-two as of three weeks ago.”

   “Wow, you’re practically the same age! How convenient and lovely!” She laughed softly and released Lay’s hands. He simply meets your eyes once again, and grabs your hand, gently weaving his fingers through yours.

   “Well then, I’ll leave you two be. Heaven knows you have quite a bit to catch up on, and lots of things to plan.” she adds the last part with a wink as she turns and walks away. You don’t want to know what she was hinting at, but Lay’s interpretation couldn’t have been far off from your own, judging by his deep blush and averting eyes.

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

   The next few weeks were very eventful, if not stressful. As Lay mentioned, he was already married to a woman, so he brought you with him to explain everything to her and her family. Thankfully, everyone took it well. Better than well, in fact. They all encouraged the two of you to find happiness together, and had little to no problems with him divorcing Elaine. Even the church approved of it, saying how he remained faithful to who he chose, until he met God’s choice for him. You’re all close friends now, and you have even been dubbed “Aunt Y/n” by Elaine’s nephew, Jon.

   Lay then went on to find a house near your family. He wasn’t exactly on good terms with his own, that’s why he moved here to England from Asia once he learned English. He also chose to quit his job at the blacksmith’s shop and help your father with his hunting business, and in turn, your father helped him make weapons, so they didn’t need to pay for the over-priced ones at the market. Meanwhile, you and your mother stayed at home, weaving baskets and growing flowers to place inside of them to make them seem even more lovely to attract more customers.

   You and Lay decide to adopt children, rather than have your own. There are so many kids looking for a better future waiting in an orphanage, why have your own when you could change their life? That was your reasoning for people when they asked, anyway, and one that Lay grew to use for himself. Emilia and Carter are wonderful and well-behaved children, unlike what some other parents have told you about their own offspring.

   This is how you spent the next couple of years. You staying at home, raising your kids, and making various crafts to sell with your aging mother. Lay was usually busy with hunting or crafting weapons for the hunt. Your father finally retired from hunting all together, passing the business down to your soulmate and fully moving to the forge, trained in the craft by Lay himself. Your husband was often busy, but he always found time for you and your children, and always brought little gifts home you all from his hunting trips. Usually, it was a new type of flower or scented plant for the baskets, or a pretty stone or feathers for the kids’ collections. Life was seemingly perfect, more than you could have ever imagined.

   Until that one night.

   Lay came home after dark, a week before he was due to be home home, and is very injured and bleeding profusely. You instantly loop your arm under his shoulder and take him to the couch in your living area, and lay him down. You’re quick to rush off into your room to get the emergency medical kit stored under your bed. Although, before you could make it to the small box, you hear a loud, deep growl and Lay’s screams. You immediately turn around and run back to the living room, grabbing one of the axes hanging in the hallway on the way while preparing yourself to kill an animal. This wolf, though, is bigger than anything you’ve seen.

   It is easily the size of two men, if not larger, and is currently on top of Lay. It’s dark fur matted with mud and what could be blood. It’s long claws is digging into your soulmate without mercy, even though he has fallen silent by now. Filled with an unfamiliar and uncontrollable sense of rage, you run up to the beast and slam the axe into it’s skull with a loud grunt. Surprisingly, it doesn’t die, the hit only crippled it and making it sit back weakly. You rip the axe out of the wolf’s skull and bring it back down again, causing a loud crack to sound through the room and effectively stilling the beast for good this time. You shove it off of Lay with great difficulty, and take a look at the damage done.

   He’s alive, if only barely. There’s blood everywhere on and around him, with deep gashes covering his torso and limbs. Yet, he looks strangely calm, despite how much pain he must be in and the fact there’s no chance of him surviving now. Your own grieving tears splash into some of the open wounds on his face, but he doesn’t even flinch. He only continues gazing at you with very sad eyes and a small, love-sick smile.

   “I love you. You know that, right?” He managed to rasp out, sending himself into a very bloody and very painful-looking coughing fit by doing so.

   “Sshhh, Don’t talk, you’ll only make it worse.” you whimper, your voice so quiet it could barely be heard. You grip his hands, afraid to touch anywhere else out of fear you may hurt him even worse somehow.

   “Do you?” He hasn’t stopped sputtering blood, but he managed to gurgle those two words out, despite the blood in his throat.

   “Of course. Of course I know that. And I’ll always love you.” You take gasp for air, not even trying to stop your weeping now, “I’m not ready for you to leave… Please… Not yet… Not you…”

   “You’re strong.”  _Time is Ticking_ , “You’ll be fine…” He finally stopped coughing. “I love you, forever and always.”

   His grip loosened in your hands. Then his hands fell from yours.

   You feel a certain tingling on your left foot at the same time as you see his blue soul mark become a scar.

   There’s no stopping your gross sobbing now. At least not until you hear Emilia’s and Carter’s screams, along with another loud growl. You quickly stand to rescue them from the same fate Lay met, but something slams hard into the back of your head first, sending you into darkness.

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

   “Y/n! Huntress, what’s wrong with you?” a concerned, feminine voice brought your out of your thought.

   “Huh?”

   “Are you okay? You were pretty out of it, I was afraid that you were poisoned or something!” Alice exclaims from under you. The two of you are heading back to her werewolf pack after an easy negotiation with a group of vampires, and she offered to carry you on her back while in wolf form.

   “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got lost in my thoughts.” you answer.

   The truth is, you still need to find an excuse to take your boot off. You felt the familiar tingling sensation on your left foot before you even made it to the vampire’s cave, and it’s what has been keeping your mind on that night, sixteen years ago.

   After being knocked out by what you now know was a witch, you woke up in a small hut and in pain. Apparently, Lay killed a sacred animal by mistake. She knew it was a mistake, so the werewolves she sent were only supposed to push him around a bit, just enough to scare him away from that forest for good. What they didn’t expect was for him to kill one of the warriors that volunteered to go, and that particular werewolf was supposed to be the next leader of that pack. That’s why they ultimately decided to kill him instead.

   When he came home, the leader at the time and a few other large wolves followed him to get revenge, and the leader was the one you killed. The witch then explained that it was her head that they wanted next on their list, because she sent the werewolves somewhat against their will in the first place. Therefore, she was the one truly at fault for the deaths, since you and Lay both killed out of self-defense. Her way of getting revenge on you was killing your entire family right in front of you. They got a very quick and painless death, unlike Lay, at the very least. That is one of the things that keeps you from going completely insane these days.

   When it was time for you to die, which you were practically asking for at that moment, the same wolf pack from before found the hut. The witch, before she was mauled to death by the large wolves, threw some type of glass object at you, shouting something about how “death is too kind, you should see all the people and things you will ever love die before you while you live on” or something like that. At that point, you were much too dizzy, lightheaded, and tired to pay attention the exact words she used.

   Next thing you know, you wake up in a cell created by that wolf pack, and they took care of you as their prisoner for nearly a decade. They eventually let you out one day, saying how “they’ve been watching you closely” and “your morals are intact” and how “it was one large misunderstanding and you deserve a second chance.” You hung around them, because they still didn’t quite trust you enough to set you completely free, and learned how they fight and survive.

   Now, you’re pretty much a full member or their pack. You occasionally help with babysitting, cooking, and cleaning around the small village. Although, you’re usually out and about hunting whatever despicable creature there is with some of their help. Whenever you’re on one of your easier and more simple journeys, the pack leaders allow a wolf in training or two tag along with you so they can get firsthand experience with these issues, considering you have many years of fighting and negotiating experience at this point. A younger wolf named Alice is tagging along you today for this very easy task.

   There was a small vampire clan that claimed cave that has was too close to the wolves’ territory, and you were sent to deal with them, because you are literally invincible. You can’t die, you’ve actually tried before out of sheer curiosity; you simply just wake up again, aching in pain. Thankfully, everything went smoothly, and the vampires informed you that they were going to move on to a different place anyway, because it was so cramped in this particular spot. You couldn’t argue with that in the slightest. It was a rather tight fit, even without the random human cattle littered about (who they promised not to kill).

   To think that just twenty years ago, you were living happily with Lay, Emily, and Carter, blissfully unaware of the fact that the monsters parents tell their children stories about actually exist. Now they’re all dead, and you’re one of them. That, and you  _still_  need to find a reason to take your left boot off, even if only for a second.

   “Y/n? Are you sure you’re okay? You’re spacing out again.” Alice asks again. She’s a very sweet girl, almost too much for her own good. You’re worried she’ll get hurt one day because of her compassionate and empathetic nature.

   “Actually, I need to take my boot off. Like, right now.” You declare, hopping off of her back.

   “Woah, what? Why?”

   You ignore her concern and rip your knee-high, spiked boot off of your foot as fast as you safely can. The first thing you notice, is that your scar is no longer a scar.

   “Wait, I thought your soulmate died? Why is your soul mark black?”

   She doesn’t know that it was her own pack that killed him, just like everyone else her age or younger, simply because you requested that no one else tell any others about that night in attempts to move on from it. They aren’t cruel creatures at all, they were only trying to scare Lay away, then get revenge when he killed the next leader in line. They never meant to interfere with you or your kids either, not until you killed their leader, but they’ve agreed to forgive you for that, since it was out of self-defense and revenge for Lay. It’s in the far past now.

   “I don’t know…” You finally answer after a long pause. Alice is now in her human form, mostly naked and studying the black swirls that decorate your foot once more.

   “It’s very pretty. Do you think it means you have another soulmate?” she asked hopefully.

   “No,” you shoot down immediately, “It’s probably just a fluke from the immortal spell on me, or something.”

   That’s what you keep telling yourself for the next thirteen years, and after the first year and a half, you completely believe it. You already had your chance at a soulmate, and he was killed, so why would the world send you another? Still, you thought about it too much for what you’d consider normal.

   In those thirteen years, you decided to leave that wolf pack and move on to another place. Almost everyone you originally knew from being a prisoner was dead, and the land you lived in started to get boring and the problems got repetitive. You left them just over a year ago now, but you’re already getting lonely. You’ve been trying to distract yourself from this loneliness by teaching yourself new fighting techniques, and they’ve come in handy on many occasions. You may not be able to die, but you can still feel pain, and getting stabbed in the gut with a sword  _hurts_. You still to this day, you still have no clue how Lay remained that calm while torn up that badly. He must have already been closer to death than you thought.

   You will never be so close to death that you get calm like that, and you’re proving that point right now. Your arm was almost completely ripped off a couple of days ago after you tried to dodge a blow to the head with an axe. Your head got cut in half with the second swing anyway, and you woke up a couple of feet underground just hours ago. Now, you’re trying to limp to civilization in hopes of finding a safe place to rest, despite the fact it’s getting dark and you’re exhausted.

   There is still blood trickling from back of your head to down your neck and back, accompanied by a massive headache. Your leg feels broken, and your arm looks very dislocated and is still bleeding as well. On top of all of that, the bastards that “killed” you, stole all of your money and weapons, so there’s no way you can get a room at an inn. That’s if you even find a town, and at this rate, you probably won’t. This is why you decide to stop at a stranger’s house in hopes they’ll let you sleep on their living room furniture or something. You just really need to sleep on something cushioned tonight, and the dark cloak you are currently wearing isn’t going to cut it this time.

   This person’s front yard looks nice, with beautiful flowers of many colors thriving along the wall of the small building. You walk up the dirt pathway that leads to their door, and can’t help but notice how the grass is neatly trimmed away from the walkway. This person obviously cares about the exterior of their house. Hopefully they are as nice as their house looks.

   You release your grip on your arm to pull back your hood and knock on the door, and a dog’s barking sounds through the house. It doesn’t sound large, but smaller dogs can be vicious too, you learned this the hard way a few years back. Come to think of it, you’ve been learning pretty much everything the hard way since Lay’s death.

    _And there you go again, thinking about him. It’s been 30 years since he’s died. Stop reminding yourself of him._

   The sound of squeaky hinges pulls you from your thoughts. You look up to a very tall and tan man, he is rather muscular and has a full, curly beard hanging from his chin. His hair is a light brown, and his hazel eyes seem kind, despite his build and stance.

   “May I help you?” he asks defensively. Of course he’s being defensive, you’ve just been standing there sizing up the stranger by habit.

   “I know it may be too much to ask, but may I rest here?” Upon seeing the blatant discomfort and skepticism flash across his face, you quickly change your request, “Actually, that is a bit much to ask, isn’t it. Do you have bandages I can use, instead?” You can make do with grass or something, but you  _do_  need to stop this bleeding. It takes much longer to wake up after dying from blood loss, and you’re already very lightheaded, which isn’t a good sign.

   “Why do you need bandages?” Now  _he_  seems to be sizing  _you_  up, and you doubt he’s doing it out of habit. You  _do_  seem very suspicious right now.

   As an answer to his question, you lower the hood off of your shoulder a bit, just enough to show him where you’re bleeding and how much wrap you need. You don’t need much at all. Accompanying your immortality, you now heal around four to five times faster than the average human, if your estimations are correct. Although, looking at the wound now, there is a lot more blood than you thought. You don’t want to take anymore supplies than what is absolutely needed from this man, and you fear he’ll give you far too much now.

   “Oh my…” His deep voice grabs your attention again. You’re spacing out more than usual, that is another bad sign. “Come inside, I’ll get you patched up. This is really bad.” He moves next to you and places his hand in the middle of your shoulder blades in an attempt to lead you inside.

   “Are you sure? It’s really not as bad as it looks-”

   “Yes! The back of your head is bleeding too!” The man’s voice is sounding more distressed, so you finally let him lead you inside with a sigh of defeat.

   It  _was_  your original plan to crash here tonight, but you didn’t want it to be out of pity. Is it really pity, though? You’re in real pain, with real injuries that need to be taken care of preferably sooner rather than later. The stranger’s grey and brown blotched dog rushes up and shoves its nose into your bad leg to smell you, causing you to wince. You try to gently move it away with that leg, but realize your mistake immediately when the dog doesn’t move at all and only causes you put more pressure onto the injury.

   “Rosemary! Get!” you flinch away from the loud voice in your ear, only to become very dizzy and lean more of your weight on its source. “Sorry about that, she tends to get a bit excited for visitors. Here, sit down and take your hood off,” he orders while gesturing to one of his chairs. You start doing exactly that as he continues, “I’m going to get some bandages and such.” He turns to leave, but with a single glance back at you without your hood on, he halts, then speedily walks back to your side. “On second thought, you definitely need to get washed up first. I didn’t know you were this dirty. Come on.”

   He reaches his arm around your waist and helps you stand, and you learn that you don’t despise his touch as much as other people’s. Probably because he’s the one who’s helping you. You lean your weight on him again, so you can walk with less struggle, as he leads you to his washroom. This guy seems to finally notice that you’re limping, and sets you down on the ground by the pot in this small room. He grabs said pot, then addresses you.

   “I’m going to get new water and a clean rag. And I don’t think I got your name?” He didn’t, you dislike giving your name out to strangers, but you owe him at least that for helping you.

   “Y/n. Yours?”

   “Jackson.” He smiles as he walks away.

   The rest of that night was a painful one. You washed as much of yourself as you could, then you covered your front side with a large rag as Jackson washed your back. He bandaged you right in that room, and he used too much for you, as expected. He moved you to his bed, and even though you wanted to argue about that, you couldn’t. You were too tired and in too much pain to fight against anything. As soon as your head hit his pillow, you fell asleep.

   This cycle repeated everyday for the next week, and Jackson has definitely noticed that you heal way to fast to be human. He never said or did anything that you know of, though. Jackson is actually a really great guy. He’s very funny, a little clumsy, and has a large heart. That’s why he has a large and thriving garden and a dog, he loves to care for things and is very attentive to details. That being said, he also noticed how you kept your left foot covered at all times, and asked about it one afternoon.

   “Oh, my foot?” you reply awkwardly. You might as well tell him the truth, “My soul mark is on that foot. I don’t like looking at it very often.” You look back up at the tanned man, and you can tell that he  _really_  wants to see it. You’ve already come this far, might as well go all the way and show him.

   “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, I guess.”

   He nods his head so fast that you think it could fall off at any moment. He reaches down to the bottom of his shirt, which is dirtied from gardening, and pulls it up just enough to reveal his stomach. He then looks at you expectantly, but you keep your gaze on his torso where his black soul mark is.

   It matches yours.

   You shake your head in disbelief as you slowly pull your sock off and show him your own swirling design. His eyes immediately widen, and you feel the familiar tingle on your foot as it turns blue once more. He places his hand on his torso, right over his mark, and looks into your eyes. His hand drops while he moves to stand right in front of where you’re sitting on his couch.

   Then he kisses you.

   Unlike with Lay, Jackson just dives in and kisses you, holding your jaw through the closed-mouth kiss. Maybe it’s because you had a chance to learn the basics about each other first. You feel the same energy you felt with Lay where Jackson is touching you, but it’s not as strong. You don’t know how it’s possible. You’re the first to break away, but you don’t go far.

   “How old are you again? Twenty-nine?” you ask. You have a suspicion of something, but you need to confirm his age first.

   “Yes. And you’re twenty-eight?” His smile is so bright.

   “Yea.” you lie. You couldn’t simply tell him ‘ _I’m actually turning fifty-seven very soon! I’m immortal and will never age or die!_ ’ when he asked you for your age earlier this week. That would definitely not go down well for either of you.

   “I’m so happy I found you. And to think I almost didn’t let you inside last week!” He chuckles and sits on the couch with you, placing an arm around your shoulders.

   You just confirmed that he was, in fact, twenty-nine years old. You recall that it has been around thirty winters since Lay’s death. That has to be connected with the appearance your new soulmate somehow, right? Jackson gladly interrupts your thoughts when he stands and pecks your lips, announcing that he needs to put away the tools he left outside before any snuggling can happen. You smile and force your previous train of thought to the back of your head.

   You continue to forcibly shove those types of thoughts out of your head for the next few months. Jackson was thankfully still unmarried, so you don’t have to go through that rather awkward process again. You stayed with him for two years, taking care of him while he takes care of you. It wasn’t quite like with Lay, but you need to stop comparing everything to him. They’re two completely different people, of course it’s not going to be the same.

   One evening, Jackson came home from the market, where he sold his various plants, coughing a bit. You ordered him to go to bed, which he happily did, but it only went downhill from there.

   It started with the occasional coughing, then it became almost nonstop. Then he started emptying his stomach, having to hastily lean over the bed in order to make it to the bucket you placed on the ground. It eventually got to a point where he was too weak to even move himself over the edge, and ended up covering himself and the bed in his sick. You would be able to tell that he felt extremely bad about all of this even if he didn’t apologize for it nearly everyday.

   The one major problem was that the two of you were too poor to afford a doctor, and quite frankly, you never trusted them anyway. Although, he kept getting worse, and you couldn’t do anything except stay by his side at all times. It got to a point where you began to feel what it was like to starve to death again. Yet, you couldn’t force yourself to mind like you should. Jackson couldn’t help it, and he was your soulmate. It actually pained you to see him so skinny and weak. You were so used to him being extremely fit and always overflowing with life.

   You woke up one morning in the same chair in your shared room you’ve been sleeping in for the past couple of weeks, except it was silent. You immediately rush to Jackson, who looks barely alive.

   “Jackson! Jackson stay awake!” You knew he wouldn’t recover, but you weren’t thinking he’d perish this fast. It might have thirty years, but you’re still not ready to lose another loved one.

   “How are you still alive and well? You look just as beautiful as ever.” You know he’s indirectly mentioning how skinny you are from the lack of food you’ve been eating.

   “I’ve been eating just enough to keep me alive. Rosemary looks much better than I do, I promise.” you chuckle humorlessly.

   “No, that’s not what I mean. I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re here after all.” he coughs some more. You can practically see the life draining out of him. “I love you. You know that, right?”

    _Why does this seem familiar?_

   “Of course I do…” You can feel the tears building behind your eyes.

   “You’re strong, just like I knew you were. You survived this long.” He has that same sad, lovesick smile that Lay did on his deathbed.

    _This can’t just be deja vu, can it?_

   “…Lay?…” His smile grew to one of true joy, despite being so close to death.

   “I love you, forever and always.”

   “Lay? Lay! Wait! No! Not yet! Not again!”

   But there was no response. Only a familiar tingle on your foot as your soul mark became a scar once more.

 

   It happened again 18 years later. A young man with dark skin named John was struggling to get his horse to move. You helped him fix the problem (the horse had something lodged in its teeth and refused to move because of it), so he invited you over to have dinner. You knew the signs and searched for them this time, though. Every time your skin would brush against each other while walking or handing each other something, there would be a small hum of energy, unnoticeable if you weren’t paying special attention for it. There was also a tiny pull towards him; it was the only reason you didn’t leave so you wouldn’t get hurt again. John made it obvious that he felt that pull, too, even if he wasn’t aware that he felt it. This time, though, you took special care to hide your mark from him. What if Jackson remembered you from Lay’s time, because you allowed your marks to turn blue? What if that’s what kept the cycle going, and as soon as John died without knowing you were his soulmate, it would end?

   You stayed with him for nearly a year, still somewhat skeptical of what happened in Jackson’s last moment. The two of you remained purely platonic, as he was oblivious to the fact that your soul mark matched the one on his calf. You enjoyed horseback riding with him through the forests, but that all ended when the new horse he got kicked him while he was grooming her. He coughed up blood as he spoke.

   He told you how much he loved you, and apologized for never noticing you were his other half before that moment. You, in turn, apologized for never telling or showing him. He dismissed it immediately, and passed on to his next life mid sentence.

   “I’ve always loved y…”

   From then on, it was a constant pattern.

   Every 16 years after your soulmate’s death, your mark would turn from a scar to black again. Within the next 20 years, you’d stumble upon the next reincarnation of your soulmate. There were a few girls, but they were usually men. They reappeared as different races, heights, builds, and so on. You met each one at a different ages, once when he was fifteen, and a couple of them over 35, and stayed with them for anywhere between just a few weeks to a few years. They had many varying personalities, one reincarnation was even extremely abusive to his wife and children. That was the first time you intentionally injured one of your soulmates.

   You cut his arm off after he was strangling his daughter to death, and he bled out. He apologized profusely and begged for your forgiveness, mixed with  _I love you_ s as he was dying. Of course you forgave him, he was so genuinely torn about his actions and it almost hurt you for injuring him in the first place. He said a similar line as your first two soulmates, with tears running down his cheeks.

   “I will always love you, forever and always. I am so,  _so_  sorry, Love.”

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

   “Hello! My name is Y/n, and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I get you guys any drinks?”

   The year is 2017, and you work as a waitress at a small family diner in America. You moving to America was your 505th birthday present to yourself, which means you arrived here in the year 1883 if you did the math correctly. You can personally say, as someone who is currently 629 years old, that the history books in schools are not completely accurate. You only know this because you’re pretending to be a fresh high school graduate, so you can go to community college without unnecessary questions being asked.

   So far, you’ve learned that kids these days hate school more than ever, the work has gotten more difficult, and college prices are skyrocketing from inflation and high demand. You never realized how much you were missing out with your lack of reading capabilities, but it is amazing. Coupled with this brand new thing (well, brand new relating to you, it’s been out for public use for around thirty years now) called internet, you can read whatever you want, whenever you want. Also, while other kids are complaining about how dumb school is, you know how awesome it is to have education at all. You didn’t realize how much you didn’t know until you started secret classes back in the 1700s with a reincarnation of your soulmate. That poor girl got shot when someone decided it would be a good idea to open fire inside the old building.

   Another thing you noticed since the internet, it is  _much_  easier for people to find their soulmates. Where it was a miracle to find them just 100 years ago, now it’s almost a common thing. There’s even an app for that now. All someone has to do is take a clear picture of their soul mark, and it scans through every other soul mark people have posted using it, potentially finding your perfect match. You don’t need to use it, though, because you’re cursed to meet every single soulmate you have, then watch them die as they remember you from the perspectives of your previous soulmates.

   “Y/n! can you come here?” your boss calls out from the back door in the locker room, where you keep your bags and such.

   “Coming, Eloise!” you call back.

   Eloise is a very old friend who somehow got promoted faster than you did (it’s probably because she spent her entire life around humans, while you spent yours in solitude). Back in 1910 or so, your soulmate had an older sister, and that’s who she is. You ran into each other again in 1977, both still looking very young as you both showed up for a protest, you with a new soulmate. You immediately recognized each other, of course, and after a lot of yelling and confusion, you both told your stories of how and why you both are still alive and young after seventy years.

   She was bit by a zombie while walking home late one night, so now she’s stopped aging at thirty-two years old. All she needs to do is eat a meal of meat a day and she’s completely safe around humans and animals and good to go. The two of you travel together now, moving to a new place every five to ten years to avoid suspicion among the humans, considering they still don’t believe supernatural creatures exist. It has definitely gotten much tougher to do so in recent days. You’ve learned how to forge IDs and Birth certificates and things like that after one too many unreliable sources. This is what paved the way to you wanting to know how to hack and such, and it’s also why you’re going to college.

   “Yea, Eloise?” You make your presence known as you head into the kitchen.

   “There’s a newbie who needs a bit of training, do you think you’re able to show him how it’s done?” her voice rings out from the locker room. She seems genuinely worried that you’d turn her down. You might have done exactly that thirty years ago, but not anymore.

   “Yea, of course!” You finally round the corner and properly enter the room. You’re breath hitches as you take in the new guy’s appearance.

   His hair is a very familiar brown, and his brown eyes are sparkling like they seem they should. You think it works quite well with his uniform, which consists of a black, fitted t-shirt and nice jeans. He has a very familiar build and a very familiar height that’s held with a familiar posture. You think you could take a good guess at where his soul mark is, too.

   “Hello! My name’s Yixing, but some people call me-”

   “Lay…” you interrupt unintentionally.

   “Yea, how did you know?” he gives an awkward and slightly uncomfortable laugh. He reaches his hand out to offer a handshake, which you accept without breaking eye contact.

   “Lucky guess, I suppose.”

  _It’s on his right hand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the prologue! I hope you guys didn’t hate reading it as much as I hated editing it. (Seriously, there were an unhealthy amount of typos and mis-wordings in the original version) Thank you for spending the time to read my writing! 😄 Kara 💖


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Kidnapping, Minor Gore, Fighting, Character death

  “Y/n!” Eloise calls from behind you, “Y/n wait up!” You slow to a stop and turn around to face her. You watch her straight, black hair bounce by her shoulders as she jogs up to your side after locking up the diner’s back door. You two are just leaving from working your long shifts at the small diner. Today felt even longer than usual to you, because you had to follow Lay- Yixing around, and vice-versa. It was nerve wracking to an unnecessary degree. “What’s wrong? That new guy was your soulmate, right? That’s why I thought you would enjoy helping him?”

  You and Eloise have only been staying together long enough for her to meet three of your soulmates, the one that was at the protest with you in 1977. The soulmate directly after that must have died before they turned sixteen, though, because your soul mark didn’t turn black again until 2006, which means Lay-  _Yixing_ , Yixing is twenty-six years old. That’s about how old Lay was when he was killed, right? You try to recall if that is actually true, but Eloise’s teasing voice shatters your train of thought.

  “Earth to Y/n! Come in Y/n! We’re losing signal!” You shove her playfully, and she laughs in response. “But seriously, what’s wrong?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get home. This isn’t something that I want to discuss around  _people_.” Eloise likes to act young and naive, but she is rather smart and logical when she needs to be. She understands that you mean humans, rather than just in public in general.

  “Let’s go see Victor at the bar, then!”

  “Ugh, I’m tired and warm, I think I might be getting sick.” Having those symptoms isn’t a lie in the slightest, but you and her both know that you can’t get sick from some measly viruses like the common flus that spread these days. Maybe from like what is now known as the Black Death (it is arguably the worst death you’ve experienced by “natural causes” so far), but that supposedly isn’t an immediate problem anymore, with all of the scientific advancements of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries so far.

  “Come on, we both know that that’s bullshit.” Eloise has no trouble calling you out, “You can’t get sick, and we both know it.”

  “I admit, the illness was a lie, but I actually am tired and I actually do feel a bit warm. There’s no chance that there’s some kind of mutant bacteria or something like some people on the internet think is breeding?”

  “Probably not. And if there is, either you or your soulmate would get it first, with your luck.”

  “Wow, thanks.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. To the bar?” You groan again, but reluctantly nod this time. Eloise’s steps becomes much bouncier for a few moments, but she eventually calms down and continues strolling by your side.

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

  “I hate this part every time.” you complain to your companion.

  You and Eloise are standing at the edge of the force field that hides the supernatural creatures’ part of the city from humans. While you see a giant blue wall, and Eloise, like every other non-human, sees the town almost clearly beyond this barrier. Now, if normal people came walking down here, on the other hand, they would see two girls at the edge of a cliff that drops off into the rocky sea. You always hesitate at these force fields, though, because you were born human, it always is a little painful and feels weird going through these. The two of you believe it’s because the magic and power that keeps the barrier up can’t decide if it should let you fall into the ocean below for having a human’s soul mark, or if it should allow you in without any problems for being directly connected to magic.

  “Aw, come on you big baby. We always go through this! Stop whining!” Eloise takes your arm with a devilish grin and yanks you through the large blue wall.

  The pain is there then gone in almost an instant, since she pulled you through the blue wall quite quickly. Although, it still feels like your skin is on fire and electricity is being shot straight to your soul mark in that moment. The after effects, which is what you’re feeling right now, is lightheadedness, slight queasiness, sudden weakness, and whatever pain is leftover from actually passing through the barrier. The weakness always goes away within a few seconds, and the light nausea always follows soon after. Although, the lightheadedness unfortunately tends to linger for a few minutes more at the least.

  “I think I have a good reason to dislike these, don’t you think?” You finally respond to the zombie’s comment after several seconds of walking. She knows how these make you feel, especially with the reaction you gave the first time you unknowingly jumped through on with her.

  “Well, I’d think that after literally being burned to death for ‘being a witch’ that you’d be used to something as small as  _this_.” she gestures to the force field, which is now a few steps behind you.

  “Dying doesn’t make  _anything_  less painful! And you make it seem like I enjoyed being burned alive! It’s not like you where every time you get hurt, your nerves get damaged so you feel less pain. Every time I die, my nerves reset! I was still in real pain after I woke up from that night because of the fire!” Even after thirty years of traveling together as roommates, she still doesn’t quite understand how this works. It doesn’t help that  _you_  don’t even understand how a lot of this stuff actually works either. You have always just kind of written it off as ‘that’s just how it is’ and never looked deeper into things.

  “Dang. That sucks.” She replies indifferently, causing you to groan in aggravation.

  You walk down the stone-paved roads, which are only the width of human’s road’s lane and a half. It was wide enough to where large wereanimals could easily rush along the path while traveling opposite directions, and still leave extra room for the rest of the creatures to move out of their way when it does happen.

  The streets seem more full than usual today, and you blame it on being a weekend afternoon. You watch as a werefalcon teaches her young child, a wereparrot, to fly, while a young werelinx remains on the roof. Wereanimals are a strange thing. If two wereanimals are the same species, then they can have a child or litter while in animal form to get the same animal as them. The mother has to remain in that animal state for the last few weeks of pregnancy though, or she risks seriously injuring herself or the child during her shift. Although, if the couple are of different species, while they can still have children, they aren’t going to be the same animal as either of the parents. The child’s personality, morals and their potential strength and intelligence determine what animal they will be when they’re between the ages of seven and ten. You only know this because your usual bartender, who is quickly growing to be a rather close friend of yours, is a weregoat, and his sister is a werecoyote with a werewolf soulmate. Things like this tend to get very confusing very fast.

  You turn right towards a seemingly small wooden building. The outside looks similar to a small log cabin, but the inside is very spacious and has regularly updated technology. The first time you entered, you were expecting a homey, calm bar or something where you could relax after a day of work. You were more-than-surprised and less-than-pleased to find that you had come at rush hour, and the building was packed. The only reason why you stayed that evening is because a tall bartender introduced himself as Victor and wrapped you up in a surprisingly pleasant conversation, and the thought of just getting up and leaving him seemed rude. After that, you never had a problem going back again every Monday with Eloise, as long as it was during Victor’s shift and not near rush hour. Although, in the three-and-a-half years you’ve been returning here every week, you’ve suggested coming here first only a handful of times.

  “Well if it isn’t Y/n and Eloise!” the familiar brunette greets from behind the counter, “What brings you here on a Friday? I thought y'all avoided this place on the weekends like the plague.”

  “Y/n just found another one of her soulmates! She didn’t seem pleased, though, so I dragged her here so we didn’t have to worry about any humans overhearing.” Your partner-in-crime sits down on one of the cushioned stools as she announces this to the entire place. It’s a good thing it’s empty with the exception of couple in the corner.

   Victor already knows about your soulmate ordeal because of one of your more unfortunate and rather drunk nights, but you really don’t want anyone else finding out about your situation. You’ve found out the hard way that people don’t take to kindly to immortals, whether that person can’t die by their own choice or not. Half of them accepted the unannounced challenge to attempt killing you, and the other half wanted to run experiments on you to find the secret of never-ending life themselves. The fools, you’re not sure why anyone would want to live forever. It’s much to painful, then life just gets excruciatingly dull.

  “Oh really? Give us the deets! How handsome is he this time ‘round?” Victor stops cleaning dishes so he can stand right in front of you, elbows on the counter, head in his hands.

  You know you could go on and on about Yixing to Victor, because, unlike Eloise, who hasn’t shown interest in anyone for as long as you’ve known her, Victor is very interested in men. He’d be the perfect one to rant about this to, actually. Once that thought pops in your head, you can’t help but also think that Eloise brought you here because she knew he’d listen to this better than she would. She may be a sarcastic asshole ninety-eight percent of the time, but she occasionally makes an effort not to be.

  “Please don’t ever say ‘deets’ again, I ated that while it was still a thing, and Yixing looks completely identical to Lay, my first soulmate. Even the soul mark is in the exact same spot on his right hand.” You slump down on the counter at the same time that Victor sits up straighter and Eloise leans towards you, interested in this topic for once.

  “You’re like a thousand years old right? What if there are no more variables left for men’s appearances?” Eloise inquires.

  “Are you serious?” The bartender turns his head to the zombie, “According to science, only seven to eight people look similar to each other out of a million or two. That’s a literal one in a million chance that Yixing just so happens to look identical to Lay.”

  “And I’m only 629 years old,” you mumble an addition, “630 in a few months. And I’ve had female soulmates, which means more possible variables...”

  “Well sorry trying, okay? Jeeze… Also, Victor, can I get my light beer?” Your friend shrinks back down in her seat, just like how she was before you mention Lay.

  “Yea, well, I personally think this is some kind of sign.” Victor thinks out loud. He turns away and grabs a clean glass, filling it with your friend’s alcohol. “Do you want something too, Y/n?”

  “I’ll just have a water this time, and that’s what I was thinking too,” you agree, “But what kind of sign could there possibly be? Lay was the one who killed the sacred animal or whatever it was, and he’s already dying over and over again after remembering his previous lives, so I think that’s a good enough punishment. And the werewolf pack has already completely forgiven me. They probably don’t even know I exist anymore, it was so long ago. I don’t know if their pack still exists, actually...”

  Eloise pipes up this time, “Who was the witch that got killed? Did you watch her die?”

  “I can’t remember, and no I didn’t. But-”

  “What if  _she_ ’s the one doing this then?” she raises her voice. You almost want to believe that it’s that simple, but it’s unrealistic for many reasons.

  “If it is, why did she wait 600 years to get revenge? How come I haven’t seen any trace of her since that night? Why would she make Yixing look exactly like Lay? How would she do that?”

  “Woah woah woah, Y/n, we get it, you don’t think that’s what it is.” Victor puts an end to your rambling.

  “And I might have answers to those! She would wait because she needs to build power and learn a wider variety of magic! And all the rest of the answers are magic!”

  “Eloise,” Victor begins, “we understand you’re trying to help, but that is much too simple of an answer and not enough facts or proof support your idea. All creatures are three-dimensional and complex creatures. Why and how would someone hold a grudge for six centuries and still be mad enough to somehow go through with an elaborate plan like that. This isn’t a movie, this is real life.”

  “Humans seem to think we only exist in movies, so what’s to say that something like that can’t be real either?”

  “Eloise. Please.” you half-warn and half-beg her to drop this stubborn act.

  She could be a lot of help in figuring this out, but not until you’re alone together so she doesn’t feel the strange need to be overly dumb and girlish. Years of living in a sexist environment has conditioned her to act a certain way in public, sadly. While you lived in even worse times for women and other minority groups, the three of you can agree that you’ve practically grown a heart of stone after all of the deaths you’ve both seen and caused. Therefore, you’ve stopped caring about the things that she’s very self-conscious about before you even turned a hundred years old. The fact you’ve isolated yourself for most of your life doesn’t help your case either. Either way, your close friend drops the act, just enough to be taken seriously, and lowers her voice so only you and Victor can hear.

  “Look, I know it sounds irrational, but I’ve got nothing else. I’m willing to bet that neither of you have anything as well.” She pauses long enough to process both of your nods, “That’s why I’m sticking to this until we prove otherwise.”

  “I say that we don’t think or assume anything until we have evidence, though,” explains Victor, “That way, we can spot anything that could possibly be a clue, instead of something we find relevant to that idea of yours. We may miss something important otherwise.”

  “Fine, you do it your way, and I’ll do it mine. That way, whenever we meet up, we can exchange whatever information we find relevant and maybe get closer to our goal of finding what the hell is happening.”

  “I think that’s fair.” Victor holds his hand up for Eloise to shake, and she does exactly that.

  “And while you two are doing some snooping around or whatever it is you’re planning to do, I’m going to actually put effort into getting to know Yixing, instead of letting it be a one-sided thing until the pull gets to strong like usual. Maybe I can find different clues that way.” The woman next to your is the first one to find a flaw in your plan.

  “But I thought I overheard that Yixing has a girlfriend already? Are you going to show him your soul mark and get him to dump her?”

  “No, because if he is identical to Lay because of a specific outside force or whatever, that’ll be the fastest way to fall into some kind of trap. Besides, if you actually paid attention to Yixing today, you would know that he hasn’t really been on good terms with his girlfriend for a while now, and that’s why he got another job, so he could get more financially stable somehow.” you quickly inform.

  “Wow, he told you all of that today?” The young man has finally gotten back to washing dishes, his apron not doing much to cover his lean yet defined figure. You never understood why the bartenders here aren’t allowed to wear shirts. Doesn’t all of the staff get cold during the winter?

  “No, he never specifically told anyone that...” you finally respond a few moments later. “He just got asked a lot of questions by our regular customers, since he’s new and all, and he always told little pieces of the story to satisfy them. I just pieced it all together. He repeated the short explanations a few times, but always worded it differently, so I don’t think they’re lies. I still might be wrong, though.” You include the last two sentences after seeing your companions’ suspicious looks. Although, the expressions don’t leave either of their faces, and no one has said anything yet. “What?”

  “Stalker, much?” Eloise immediately answers as if she was waiting for an invitation. Victor speaks up right after.

  “For someone who ‘lets it be a one-sided thing until the pull gets too strong’, you’re already kind of obsessed.”

  “One, I’m not a stalker. I was told by Eloise to watch him and teach him how things are done. Two, the pull is stronger than it has been for a very very long time. It was already hard to leave him alone at the diner.”

  “Wow.” your two friends say at the same time.

  “Don’t say that like I’m a helpless child or something! I’ve got it under control!”  _I hope_ , you add in your head.

  “Well, you never answered my question, earlier. How handsome is he? Describe what he looks like!”

   You lets out a groan and lays her head on the countertop at the topic change. She definitely brought you here because she doesn’t care much about this part of the topic.

  “Well, I can just show you what Yixing looks like. I took a picture of him at work.”

  “Y/n! You didn’t!” gasps the zombie.

  “What? There’s a saying that goes ‘Take a picture, it’ll last longer’ or something like that when someone is caught staring at another person. Besides, what if he  _did_  catch me staring at his face? That’d be a first impression I don’t want, and I needed to confirm one-hundred percent that he was indeed identical to Lay!” You defend. Looking back on it now, it was probably more weird to take a picture of him while he was busy picking up a tray of food. If he caught you staring, you could have used the excuse that you were supposed to watch him, and you were judging his character or something.

   “This is a one sided relationship alright, and you’re the one side this- Ooh, he is quite the looker! You lucky duck!” You show him the picture you took. You wish you could say you were ashamed of it, but it was a good-quality picture! Plus it featured your first soulmate, well, his doppleganger anyway. You hope their personalities are at least similar, it’ll mess with your head if they’re not.

   You continue to chat and plan with your two friends until Victor has to leave to take care of customers; weekend rush hour is starting up. You all say your goodbyes, then you and Eloise each get an awkward hug from Victor over the bar top, then enter the cool air outside.

   You notice a small girl looking for her father in the middle of the street, and apparently Eloise has noticed too, because she is now walking up towards the young girl. Things like this happen often around here, since it’s almost always busy and full of different tpes of creatures. It has gotten to the point where you don’t bother trying to help, anymore. Most of these kids know not to talk to, let alone trust strangers around here, so any effort you put usually ends up being useless in the end.

   Out of the corner of your eye, a figure wearing a dark, hooded cloak smoothly traveling towards your friend’s direction catches your attention. You never turn your head, or even move your eyes towards the dark form, but you keep a constant visual on the mystery person. Once they start getting too close to your companion for comfort, you urgently call out to the zombie.

   “Hey Eloise! What are you doing? I want to go home already!” She turns towards you, but doesn’t move an inch, the small child does move, though. She moves away from the two of you and towards the other side of the road in slight panic.

   “Y/n! I know you can see her! Are you planning on just leaving her out here in cold?”

   “Are you planning on taking her home wi-” You see the cloaked person swiftly scoop the child into their cloak, and barely make out the muffled scream she gives over the sounds of the busy street. No one else seemed to have noticed and no one is doing anything, and the figure continues walking on as if nothing happened. You know it happened, though, and that is where you draw your line of forced indifference.

   You jog up and clamp your hand over Eloise’s mouth, which has been running ever since you cut off your own sentence. You grip her wrist and drag her along the path on the other side of the street where you saw the kidnapper go. Once your partner finally gets the hint that she needs to stay quiet, you remove your hand from her mouth, and loosen your grip on her wrist. She continues following you in silence, as expected. You then completely let go of her wrist as you watch the form take a sharp left into an alleyway.

   You lower yourself instinctively into a partial crouch and peer around the corner just fast enough to see the bottom of the cloak turn right into the “alleyway maze” as you like to call it. You dart to the corner they disappeared to and peer around again, then watch as the criminal takes another right. You dash forward once more. That’s when you realize that Eloise isn’t with you anymore. You glance in every direction looking for her, and find her on the rooftops somehow, silently following the same character. You’ve taught her your skill of stealth-hunting well. You smirk at the thought as pride swells just a tad in your chest.

   She takes off and jumps across the gap between the buildings and onto the one in front of you, and you take that as a hint that the kidnapper turned another corner. You rush to the right corner, only to discover that the suspicious person took a left, and was able to see your quick move from where they positioned themselves. They take off sprinting down another path, and you hurriedly push off of the wall to follow them, marking the start of the chase.

   This mystery person takes many sharp turns around corners, and pulls as many large things as they can into your path as attempts to lose you. Little do they know, you’ve been easily avoiding everything, and it only slows them down when they have to pull something heavy down in your way. They seem to eventually realize this, because the person in the hooded cloak gives up making obstacles for you all together. This means they’re now making it easier for you to catch up in a different way. There is no doubt that you are much faster than this person. While they must specialize in stealth, similar to you, you also have no problem diving into a fight head first, making you muscular as a result.

   Although, this hooded figure is still pretty fast and agile, especially considering they’re also holding a small child while avoiding you. You’re a panting mess, sweating from the energy you’re exerting, your feet hurt from running in your work shoes, and you can already feel the rash on your upper legs where your pants are rubbing against you uncomfortably. You’re just lucky you’re not wearing a skirt, with all the jumping and leaping you’ve been doing. You can’t imagine how tired the criminal must be, because you’re fit enough and not holding a child.

   You’re almost close enough to grab what you now believe is a guy from the sound of the other’s gasping. Your throat is starting to burn from the cold air and having no warm up before the chase. You’re certain that Eloise is about to jump down and cut him off, but he suddenly makes a last-minute right down another alleyway. You follow him around the corner to see that he’s going to try to blend in with the crowd, which won’t be too hard now, since everyone is now wearing hooded jackets to escape the cold. He rushes out into the busy street, but not before you strain your muscles to go faster and grip his hood. With a grunt, you force yourself to an immediate stop by leaning back and allowing yourself to fall, bringing the man down on top of you in the process. You don’t want to accidentally hurt the child wherever this guy put her in his large article of clothing.

   You hear him make a choking noise, confirming that it is a man who is under this cloak. You hear some people making a commotion, but it hasn’t gotten out of hand yet. You want to get out of the public eye before this fight gets worse. Even though you pulled the kidnapper down by the hood, it still remains on his head and over his face. He immediately gets up and prepares to run again, but Eloise finally catches up and drop kicks him to the ground. You hear a few people scream and others demanding explanations. So much for not causing a huge commotion.

   “Hey! Careful! He’s got a child, remember?!” You scold as you grab the man’s arm and pin it behind his back. He pulls out a knife with his other hand and quickly turns to slash into your right shoulder, causing you to screech in pain and let go of him. More people scream in response, but now most of them are running away and have stopped yelling at you three for answers, so they won’t cause problems for you in this fight.

   “Oh shit...” she looks genuinely surprised that he has a child with him, or maybe she’s surprised that he has a knife. Either way, she doesn’t hesitate to run up behind the kidnapper and prepare to pin him down, but he swiftly pulls out another knife and throws it at her with precision. It hits her right in the head, and she stumbles backwards for a moment.

   “Why do you think we were chasing him?! Just for fun?!” You call back to her, knowing she’s probably fine. The man sharply turns towards you again and chucks a knife at you, except you were expecting this and are fast enough to dodge it. You hear Eloise groan in pain, and you can only imagine the look on this criminal’s face as he spins around to face her again. Zombies are very uncommon, especially ones that have their heads as well as she does.

   You take this opportunity to grab both of his arms and pin them behind his back, despite the pain and uncomfortable feeling of blood streaming down from your shoulder. The man fights back, and he’s pretty strong, but with a hefty yank upwards on his arms, he cries out in pain and stills for just a moment. You watch your friend stumbles back onto her feet, leaning most of her weight onto one side with the knife still lodged in her head. You aren’t sure why she hasn’t simply pulled the knife out and get pissed at her attacker yet like she usually does during hunts similar to this one. It takes a closer glance to understand. Her eyes are completely white and her facial expression is blank and dead, which means she’s gone “savage”.

   This is not good.

   You take the belt from your uniform and wrap it around the hooded man’s arms, permanently keeping them behind his back. You then push him to the ground and dig around under his cloak, which is hard to do because he’s thrashing against you so much. You finally find and take the unconscious, bruised child from the brace-like thing he’s wearing on his torso. You also happen to dig out a few knives, and decide on a whim that you’re going to need them.

   The zombie’s loud growl fills the air, then she’s on top of you, trying and failing to claw out your throat and tear through your gut. Humans are right in the sense that zombies always go for the brains, but they usually only do that once the person is dead and still because it’s easier for them to smash the jaw off and get to the organ from underneath the skull according to Eloise. In order to kill the person, though, they typically aim for the important organs that aren’t protected by bones. Although, now that you think about it, zombies just like devouring organs in general, and not just brains exclusively.

   You take one the knives you took and stab her throat, knowing that she’ll heal and be perfectly fine once she gets some meat in her system. Her greenish-brown, rotten blood slowly oozes from the two wounds she has gained and drips down onto you in disgusting globs. You use the other knife and force it into her shoulder, then use both handles to shove her back and off of you. She falls onto her back, allowing you to jump on her torso and pin her down. You yank all three knives out of her, and her thank you to you is a deep scratch down your torso. You cry out in pain once more and roll off of her.

   During your roll, you catch sight of the kidnapper getting up using the wall, most likely preparing to run. You painfully force yourself up off the ground and half-stumble half-stomp over to the man, with your left arm pressed against your newest and most serious injury in a weak attempt to slow the bleeding. You trip the guy, causing him to fall face-first onto the ground, probably breaking his nose in the process. You use your foot to kick up and at one of the pressure points in his neck which should make him drop unconscious for at least a few minutes. A snarl behind you catches your urgent attention.

   The crazed zombie that was once your close friend is now on top of the waking child, and seems about ready to have a snack.

   “Eloise! NO!” You would throw a knife at her, but you don’t want to accidentally hit the child that’s beginning to squirm under her.

   Thankfully, your shout is enough to get both of their attention, and Eloise rolls her lifeless head towards you. You’re starting to feel the effects of the blood loss and undead bacteria invading your system, both slowing you down and making you lightheaded and kind of numb. You find the strength to somewhere in you to run up to the almost-cannibal and kick her in the throat as hard as your weak, aching muscles will allow you to. Eloise stumbles back a step or two, but quickly regains her balance and pounces on you with another snarl.

   Quick fun fact, humans tend to think that zombies are weak, unable to move quickly, and would relatively easy to defeat if it weren’t for hordes. That is completely false. Zombies no longer have the thing in their brain (you’ve forgotten what it’s called over these past years) that keeps creatures from using too much muscle power and causing an injury. A human could easily bite their own finger off, but that thing in their head keeps them from doing so, because it would hurt their jaw and obviously injure their hand. Since zombies don’t have whatever that function is, they are able to use every ounce of their strength, even if it damages themselves in the process. This makes them extremely strong and a quite a bit faster than their living selves were. This is how zombies break the bones of their victims to get to their important organs and how there came to be so many in the first place in the comics, books, and movies.

   That is also why you aren’t able to dodge Eloise when she pounces on you again, and why the impact knocks all three blades out of your hands and out of reach. It’s why you can’t successfully shove her off of yourself, and why you are forced to feel the, thankfully dull, pain of her eating you alive. It isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, though, since the undead bacteria was already working to numb your body, so you don’t feel the need to and  _can’t_  fight back as you slip into the deep, familiar nothingness of death once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Ho! I hope this chapter was okay! I promise there will be more Yixing and Soulmate in the next chapter! 😅 So, the last third? half? of this chapter will be explained on Sunday when the next chapter gets posted! I hope the people who read this enjoyed it! 😁 ~ Kara 💖


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Character Death, Depressive Thoughts, Short Existential Crisis, and an unhealthy amount of dialogue (like, 2/3 of this chapter is just people talking and I apologize)

   You wake up with a gasp, as you always do when you recover from death, and are very pleased to know that you can actually breathe. You aren’t hanged somewhere, buried, or in the bottom of a body of water, which is always good. Your memories are rather fuzzy and jumbled, which is expected, but there aren’t any specific, sharp pains anywhere, so you didn’t get shot or stabbed this time. The only noticeable discomfort you feel is a dull ache in your torso, which is unusual for just waking up from literal death. You usually experience more pain. You don’t remember getting hit with a tranquilizer, or any other type of strong, sleep-inducing dart. You would feel the sharper pain of where it stabbed you if that had been the case, but you don’t.

   You finally squint your eyes open, offended at the amount of light streaming into the room. After a few minutes of letting your eyes slowly adjust, you realize you’re in your room, on your bed. Eloise must have found you and successfully brought you back, for once.

    _Eloise._

   Most of the memories from that evening came flooding back in a disorderly fashion, starting with the sight of Eloise eating you and the feeling of not being able to move because of it for some reason. It would certainly explain why there was only a dull ache that covered most of your gut, why your lungs ache slightly with every breath you take. You have heard from some undead acquaintances that getting bit or even partially eaten didn’t hurt, but you didn’t quite believe them until now. You attempt sitting up, but you’re still kind of numb from her bite.

   If you were able to sit up, you could reach over to your side-table drawer, which is just out of reach next to you, and record the date and cause of your death, and how long you remained dead in your journal. You’ve been keeping up with it since the third time you died. It started as just a way of preserving what was left of your sanity, but now it’s mostly out of habit and just for the sake of having a record of these things. When you died during the 9/11 attack while on a vacation trip with Eloise, she found out about it, and decided to make one herself, except hers records when and about how long she loses control, like the evening she killed you.

   You manage to lift your arm and grab your phone. You clumsily unlock it, wanting to go back to sleep already, and look at the calendar. It’s been six days since you’ve died. That is four days longer than the average time it takes to wake up. Undead bacteria is no joke, apparently, and you are actually going to kill Eloise using the blowgun hidden behind your headboard the moment she walks into your room. She’ll wake up in less than an hour completely fine, but wanting meat, so she can heal and not get psychotic again.

   In preparation, you spend the next hour and a half getting yourself to the point where you can stumble across the room, despite your exhaustion. You grab the blowgun and a single, poisoned dart for ammo, knowing she won’t be able to dodge it at such a close range, and sit yourself down against the wall that’s directly across from your door.

   It takes nearly two more hours of sitting and fighting sleep before you hear the recognizable shuffling of your roommate trudging through your house. You hear a bag drop, then the footsteps get closer and closer until they pause right outside of your door. You take a deep breath and…

     _Fwump_

   Right in the neck! Eloise drops down almost immediately, and you can’t help but laugh weakly at the look of confusion and shock that overtook her face before she collapsed. You rush over to her as fast as your partially numb and tired limbs can take you– which isn’t quite speed-walking, you discover– and swiftly take the dart out of her neck. You then struggle more than anticipated to move her the couch where you can easily watch her from the kitchen while you cook dinner, which will be steak and assorted vegetables, you finally decide.

   A steak cooked to your liking and one done rare later, the meal’s sides are done and you’re luring your roommate from comatose by shoving a small chunk of raw steak just past her lips. She stirs just barely with a quiet groan.

   “Come on, get up. I made steak for you, you cannibalistic freak.” She answers you with a louder groan, this time sounding a bit pained. You answer to that by gently slapping both of her cheeks. “Stop groaning and get up. I took the dart out as fast as I could and I’m liter-”

   She sits up and turns to you so fast you almost smack your forehead on her face, “That’s what fucking that was?! You shot a fucking dart at me?! What the hell?!” She instantly regrets the decision to shout, and rubs her neck and head as she softly falls back against the couch.

   “You  _ate_  me! You should feel lucky I didn’t do worse!”

   “I didn’t mean to! I don’t even fuckin’ remember why I turned…” she pleaded, rubbing the place on her neck where you shot her. You take pity on her and move to the kitchen to grab the food. You two can eat on the couch for once.

   “You still did it! And you almost bit the girl we were trying to save! Be glad that I’m exhausted because otherwise your sorry ass would have been handed to you by your truly!”

   “Sorry…” she pouts. It instantly goes away at the sight and smell of the almost-raw beef you set at the coffee table in front of her. She eats so sloppily and quickly, you’re not sure how she doesn’t choke. That’s a lie, you do know why; zombies and other undead creatures (such as vampires and ghouls) don’t need to breathe. They’re basically walking corpses, so why should they? Eloise has admitted that it is very uncomfortable to have something rattling in her lungs when she does inhale something, though, so she should still be careful with eating like this.

   “How is that little girl we saved, anyway?” you change the subject. You need to go to bed, so you want to get as much information as possible in the next twenty minutes or so. “And what happened to the kidnapper?”

   “The girl was returned safely to her mother, and the guy was sent straight to a place called ‘Is-ker-lan-ty’, or something like that?” she struggles to pronounce the word correctly, but she butchers it anyway. One would think that after nearly a century of not being human, she would learn the basics of their universal language. Yet another thing that you’ll have to work on with her.

   “I think you mean  ** _ ~~´~~ ßçø®¬å ~~˜~~ † ~~´~~_** , which would be pronounced more like ‘es-score-lawn-tay’ in the english language, if I’m correct and it’s the second largest prison for magic-based creatures. Are you sure he was sent straight there?”

   “I mean, I guess? That’s what I heard while hiding the two of us, anyway. And I didn’t sign up for a fuckin’ language class, so I don’t know why you told me that.”

   “Well you’re getting a ‘language class’ anyway. Your Irakyul is absolutely terrible, and you’ve been a zombie for, what, seventy years now? Not knowing it is literally going to permanently kill you one of these days. Anyways, if he was sent there, that must mean he’s incredibly powerful, so why didn’t he just use whatever magic he uses to stop us? I wasn’t even aware that he was a mage.”

   “Irakyul is a dying language and a waste of time nowadays. And couldn’t he be some kind of ghoul?”

   “Agree to disagree then. And no, I would have been able to sense the dark magic around him. Which means he isn’t some sort of demon or shadow either.”

   “Maybe he was a defensive-defense magic user? You saw how fast he was, and he was barely panting. He could have been using some kind of booster or what-not.”

   “That’s true… He could have been kidnapping to help out a friend… The only magic I know of that involves any type of living creature is healing, conjuring, and dark magic, and I don’t think he was going to heal that girl…”

   “Defensive-defense magic isn’t just healing, though, it can be used to strengthen someone, either mentally or physically. So this could potentially be brainwashing along with creating a stronger being to use as a weapon?”

   “No, that’s  _offensive_ -defense, using defensive type magic to indirectly fight or directly aid in fighting. Defensive-defense is using defensive type magic to protect, preserve, or heal something or someone. You seriously need to do some research, there’s no excuse for your ignorance anymore. Good lord, Eloise, you’re hopeless.” you inform with a hint of laughter.

   “Hey, ignorance is bliss, as they say.”

   “Only the happy-go-lucky fools and the miserable say that.” You finally get to you feet and attempt to stretch without falling over, “You can’t afford to be clueless in this world, as you should know with the amount of times I’ve saved your ass.”

   “First of all,” she snaps, “that’s not true. Second of all, I’m not clueless, and I can learn easily enough. I just don’t want to become someone like  _you_.”

   That… kind of hurt.

   You’re aware you’re not the best role-model, if you’re even a decent one at all. That your coping mechanisms aren’t the best. That living for 630 years has changed you for the worse, has made you lose any and all faith in humanity you once had. You’re aware that Eloise hasn’t seen even a fraction of what you’ve seen, what you experienced, and that she’s trying to keep it that way. That her coping methods are much better than your own, due to her still having the hope you lost before you turned fifty. You’re aware that she isn’t actually clueless, that she  _chooses_  to not dig deeper in attempts to keep that hope, to keep her head above the water, while you’ve given up struggling and sit at the bottom of the river. No, lower than that, buried under the sand and stones that the water flows over.

   She may be the physically dead one, but she is so much more alive than you in every other aspect. You’re painfully aware of this almost all the time, but it still hurts to have it pointed out, even passively, because it makes you realize how toxic and undeserving you are. You should have died centuries ago, yet innocent people die everyday, families get torn apart, animals get violently slaughtered, people are tortured. The same questions you’ve been asking yourself for what seems like forever resurface in your mind once more, to your dismay.

   Why are you so useless? What’s the point to your existence if you can’t die? There are no real consequences. The meaning of life is to experience it before inevitable death, but you can’t seem to die, so what’s the point? To suffer eternally? What did you do in your past life so long ago to deserve this kind of punishment?

   You must have stayed silent for a tad too long, because Eloise begins talking again. This time, in a soft, apologetic tone.

   “Y/n… I’m sorry-”

   “No no, you’re absolutely correct.” you interrupt, your tone very formal. That’s what happens when you get too emotional, you put on a mask to hide everything in an attempt to hide any weaknesses you have. It’s an ancient habit meant to protect you from enemies’ taunts that slowly became an unhealthy coping mechanism. “I apologize for getting short with you once again.”

   “But you weren’t-”

   “I understand perfectly that you have your own, admittedly superior way of handling your conflicts and emotions-”

   “No! Y/n, that isn’t-”

   “-I agree that I am not the ideal person whatsoever, and I apologize for that as well.” You mechanically turn your back to her, heading towards your door.

   “Y/n, wait-”

   “I need to rest. I haven’t closed my eyes or laid down since waking up from death earlier today. I will see you tomorrow morning for work.”

   You close and lock your door before she can try to continue arguing. Then you change into your sleepwear and curl up into your bed. You imagine all of the negative thoughts that are swimming in your head and causing the burning sensation of tears behind your eyes as a large box. You take that mental box and forcibly shove it to the back of your mind, leaving you emotionally numb as you attempt to force yourself to the closest thing to comfort right now, sleep. There’s nothing like escaping the nightmare that is your life by jumping into nightmares that you know are fake and will wake up from eventually.

   You’re just cur ous of when the last time you’ll go to sleep will be, when you’ll escape from this eternal nightmare.

  You finally slip into the dreamworld after nearly an hour, not nearly as long as it usually takes, thankfully.

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

   “Hello and welcome back you two! What can I get for you guys today?” you feign cheeriness with a plastic smile.

   It’s two days after you woke up, and your first order of the morning. Just like always, you successfully repressed any depressive thoughts, and Eloise didn’t bring that night back up. You plan on keeping it that way until the next time you begin to question your existence late at night or if Eloise decides to bring it up. Right now isn’t the time for that, since you and Eloise are the only ones clocked in at the moment and don’t have any free time right now. She’s currently in the kitchen preparing and cleaning it for the numerous orders that will inevitably come in.

   You write down the customers’ orders (they’re regulars, and already know exactly what they want without even glancing at the menus) and bring the sheet back to Eloise. She sighs in response.

   “And so it begins.”

   “And so it begins.” you repeat. “I’d say we’ve only got about a year or so left of this before we have to leave, unless we want people getting suspicious of your eternal good looks.” You watch as she begins frying the eggs and hashbrowns.

   “Has it really been that long?”

   “I’m nearly done with this degree, only waiting on some stuff then I’ll be officially graduated.”

   “Five years of a relatively normal life… It was kind of nice. I’ll miss it”

   “Yea, I guess.”

   “Are you two moving soon?”

   You whip your head around towards the voice and are met with the sight of Yixing in his uniform, if it can even be called that with it consisting just jeans and a black shirt with an apron. His brown hair still glistening just a bit from the light drizzle that has coated the city

   “We’re thinking about it,” Eloise answers for you, because you’re involuntarily gawking at Yixing. You still can’t believe he’s real. You’ve almost convinced yourself that he was just an illusion from when you last saw him a week ago.

   “Really? Looking for a change in scenery?” he inquires with a smile. You can immediately tell that it’s fake, though, and you want to know why. However, his curiosity about where and when you’re moving seems to be genuine. Pushing away the natural pull to your soulmate, you don’t think you can trust him.

   “Something like that, yea.” you beam a smile that’s as real as his right back at him. He looks you up and down, but that certain twinkle in his eye does not appear to be one of romance or lust.

   “Okay! Well, thank you for coming in so early Yixing!” Eloise breaks the obvious tension between you two, putting the finished order on a large platter, “It’s just the three of us working for now because Tiffany just called in sick and Josh’s transit is delayed an hour and a half.”

   The young man’s smile returns, but it looks more genuine this time, “Of course! I may have just started last week, but I actually enjoy working here a lot! I don’t mind at all.”

     He seems to make a point of looking at you as you’re getting ready to give the order to the customers and smiling a tad softer. It’s a nice gesture at the surface, one that most would mistake for legitimate, shy kindness, but you can almost see the underlying emotion in his eyes. You still can’t quite tell what emotion it is yet, but it is most definitely not lust or infatuation.

   You hand the restaurant’s regulars their orders, apologizing for the wait and explaining that there’s only three people working right now. They are quick to wave off the apology, not believing there needs to be one, and reassure that the wait didn’t bother them. You return to the kitchen where Eloise and Yixing are on opposite sides of the room, finishing the last minute preparations needed to be officially open and in working condition. You catch Yixing looking at you while walking over to your friend from the corner of your eye, the same emotion flickering in his eyes and no plastic smile for it to hide behind.

    _Suspicion_. That’s what it is. He’s looking at you with suspicion. Why, though? You haven’t done anything to raise it, not that you know of anyway. He was looking at Eloise a similar way earlier, as well. What’s his deal?

   “Eloise.” you whisper, “Did you say something stupid to him?”

   “So you’ve noticed that too.” she whispers back, careful to not let the third person in this room hear anything, “No I haven’t. He’s been like this with me once or twice, but it’s never as obvious when he’s around you.”

   “Of course I’ve noticed. I’m not  _that_  dumb. This is strange though.”

   “Mind if I ask what you two are talking about over there? I’m always looking to make friends, especially in a new place like this.” the man in question asks in an overly cheery voice. Something is definitely up with him.

   You quickly whisper “I don’t think I sense any magic, and he has a human mark. We’ll finish this later.” Yixing looks at the both of you, silently asking to be filled in. You give him what he wants. “Oh! Sorry, didn’t think you wanted to hear me asking if I could have a tampon.” you can’t help be smug with him.

   He may look exactly like your first love, and it may be difficult to not kiss him and his beautiful face, but you’re aware that he most likely has a completely different personality than Lay’s. So far, he has only proven that he does, and you’ve only been officially around him for less than a day.

   “Oh. My bad, my fault for being nosy.” he gives an “awkward” chuckle. The laugh itself isn’t awkward, but he’s forcing it to seem that way. Suspicion still swirls in his eyes.

   This continues happening all day. One of you approaches the other, you engage in a very tense and very fake friendly chat, measuring each other up. The only difference is that he’s sizing you up as if he’s getting ready to confront you about something, while you’re memorizing every bump of his muscular form and the gentle waves of his hair, so you can finally draw an accurate sketch of Lay to remember him by. The last one you had was destroyed at some point in the 1620s by some asshole who burned you at the stake, and you’ve never been able to recreate it, since you were lacking in the skill of art and couldn’t draw from distant memory. That’s no longer a problem, seeing as you’ve had some time to practice since then, and your soulmate will be working right alongside you most weekdays. Eloise’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, closing her and your locker.

   “Bye guys! Good work today! I’ll see you all tomorrow!”

   A chorus of “ _You too_ ”s and “ _See you tomorrow_ ”s come from the kitchen behind you as you walk out into the alley way. You make it exactly three steps away from the door before you hear scuffling behind you, presumably one of the workers leaving as well. The sudden sharp pain in your back says otherwise. Thankfully, it all turns numb within a few seconds, due to your curse and adrenaline. The knife slid between your ribs easily, something that only happens with amazing luck or skill, and you’re willing to bet that it isn’t luck this time. You meet Eloise’s gaze, and hers quickly refocuses on the person behind you.

   They didn’t seem to stab you in a particularly lethal place, and the stab itself is more shallow than it could be. You find it odd that you can feel their hand shaking where it grips the knife that’s in your back, that you hear them hyperventilating from right behind you. You’re so lost in trying to find reasons for these symptoms that you don’t notice Eloise charge towards the attacker.

   He goes down with a surprised grunt after your companion uppercuts him in the jaw. She stalks towards him while you make an effort to get the knife out of your back. It doesn’t work, because it’s in an awkward spot where you can’t quite grip it well enough. Accepting the fact that you’re going to eventually bleed out, you turn around and take in the scene before you.

   Eloise is more pissed than she has been in a long while, and is stepping towards Yixing with an unnatural calm. Yixing, on the other hand, is making no effort to hide his panic and is scooting on his butt along the ground trying to put distance between you two. You can’t find yourself to be surprised. Disappointed, yes. Hurt, kind of. But not really surprised. You are surprised, however, when he begins to frantically apologize, because it appears to be genuine.

   “I- I’m so sorry. I don’t know why but I honestly am. I was told you were a zombie, but- zombies don’t bleed red. Oh god… Why-? I’ve never had a problem with this type of thing before, but- but I feel fucking horrible. Oh god you’re bleeding so much…”

   You’re about to confront him yourself when you feel a recognizable prick in your neck. You immediately rip out the dart, but you can feel the chemicals already working through your veins. A second one lands in your shoulder and you feel yourself passing out. You manage to call out one last thing.

   “Eloise! Poison darts!”

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

   It’s quiet when you wake up; too quiet. There’s always the hum and honking of traffic where your apartment is, and the only thing you hear now are your own deep breaths and some distant movement. This realization alone forces your eyes open.

   You’re laying on a full-sized bed. It’s extremely soft and the comforters draped on you are fluffy and warm and pastel blue. The frame of the bed is white. You can’t imagine having anything be white at your apartments, because the amount of times either you or Eloise come home all bloodied from fighting some kind of street criminal or rogue creature is far too high.

   You’re pleasantly surprised when you sit up and discover that there is no aching pains in your neck or back and your heart is beating completely normally, unlike any other time you’ve woken up from death. The darts were probably sleeping pills, rather than poison, then, and someone must have helped you. You have no doubt Eloise did, and considering you didn’t actually die and are in a stranger’s room, Yixing must have helped as well.

   The baby blue curtains on the window to your right glow a gentle off-yellow, presumably from a sunset or sunrise outside. The room has marshmallow white walls to reflect how pleasant and safe you feel in that moment (which never happens, so there must be a strong ward around the property), along with carpet that looks like it would be just as soft. You swing your legs over the side of the cloud of a bed to test your theory.

   You were correct. One might dare to say that it is softer than even the fluffiest of marshmallows, even though marshmallows tend to be more spongy and sticky, rather than fluffy. Maybe that one treat called Peeps is a better candy comparison. They tend to be soft and fluffy, right? You make a mental note to eat at least one before the company inevitably goes bankrupt in the future.

   There’s a dresser in front of you that reminds you of the sky, light blue with white handles that compliment the bed you’re sitting on nicely. The side-tables on either side of the aforementioned bed and the chest at the end of it are painted the colors of a soft sunset, adding a splash of color to the room. Out of your peripherals, you realize that the ceiling is painted to resemble a night sky with little to no light pollution, rather than a simple navy blue with silver shimmers. As you begin studying it, you come to yet another realization; the stars and colored blots in the artificial night sky aren’t placed at random like these features usually are in artworks.

   You can clearly identify multiple constellations and stars you once used to navigate the wilderness before modern technology was invented, right around where they’re supposed to be in a midnight summer sky in Europe. You lay back down on the bed, this time on top of the covers that you just made, and appreciate the view you never fully realized you missed so greatly. You haven’t seen this many stars in one place since lightbulbs became a common thing in America. You once looked it up on a computer for a project a while ago, but it isn’t the same on the internet, where photos can be altered freely.

    You’re going to have to find whoever took the time to do this and see if it’s possible for them to paint a portion of this on a canvas, so you can take it wherever you go. It’d be more luggage to drag around every six to ten years, but it’d be completely worth it in your perspective. Probably not Eloise’s, but she’s never lived in a time where seeing this was a normal way of life, so she sees and appreciates it as art, not as a memory. You can’t blame her for not knowing the exact placement of stars when she grew in a time where that information wasn’t needed.

   You don’t know how long you laid there and stared at the ceiling, but the sound of a door opening forces your attention away from it. A young, unfamiliar man stands in your room with a tray of what seems to be an assortment of small bottles of liquid. His silver hair– which, when paired with his distinct lack of dark energy, signifies he is an angel– getting in the way of his tanned skin. He pauses in the doorway when he catches sight of you sitting up on the bed, and when he speaks, his voice is deeper than what you expected it to be.

   “Oh! You’re up already! You healed much faster than I anticipated! How are you feeling?” He doesn’t seem untrustworthy in any way, but there are acting schools for a reason.

   “I feel great, actually. But who are you and where am I?”

   He smiles gently, “My name is Chanyeol, and this is my humble abode. Your friend, Eloise, is just in my living room. She refused to be any farther than that from you in case something happened, and I didn’t want her disrupting you by staying in here. She and Lay brought you here after you passed out last night.” You hide a grimace at his name, but he catches it easily anyway, his tone turning to one of concern. “Oh, are you on bad terms with him right now?”

   If Eloise is here, and this Chanyeol character isn’t completely aware of what Yixing did, then it’s been kept from him on purpose, whatever that purpose may be. You decide to trust your gut and tell him that everything is fine between you two. Besides, Yixing definitely acted genuinely guilty for the poor attempt at killing you, even if your matching soulmarks and the pull they naturally give is to blame for that reaction.

   “No, we’re on okay terms, I’d say. Lay was just the name of someone I used to care about a lot before they died, so earing it again surprised me for a moment.”

   “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that.” You figure that if anyone else said this phrase, they’d sound sarcastic or uncaring, yet Chanyeol made it sound the exact opposite.

   “Thank you.”

   “You must be ready to get up then? Eloise told us that you heal much faster than normal zombies, and she was right. Although, I am a natural healer, being an angel and all, and you look too alive to be one of her kind.” You don’t miss the underlying threat to his words, and you have no doubt that he knew she was lying from the moment the words left her mouth.

   “Angels can sense dark magic and stuff, right?” He nods an answer. You throw your hands up with a shrug, a gesture meaning ‘ _that’s all there is_ ’, but he isn’t having any of that.

   “Who were you cursed by, then?” Straight to the point.

   “Someone who’s long dead by now.”

   “When a mage or witch dies, so does their magic, so you never properly killed your curse giver.”

   “I watched her get ripped to literal pieces by werewolves over 600 years ago. How would she not be dead?”

   He remains silent for a good minute before Eloise is walking through the door, feigning joy and relief. She knows very well by now that you aren’t going to die, and is usually unfazed by your deaths and injuries. She hops over to you and wraps her cold arms around your torso, careful in avoiding where you were stabbed.

   “Y/n! I thought I heard your voice! Don’t scare me like that again! I-”

   “That complicates things…” Chanyeol interrupts with a serious tone. Eloise stares at him with confusion. “There’s no way she could have lived?”

   “Unless somehow the werewolves stopped attacking her for killing two of their leaders and a guardian angel started healing her immediately after I passed out, there’s no way she could’ve survived. Unless she somehow teleported away and used heavy-duty healing magic with her non-dominant arm, since the other one was ripped off, along with her entire left leg and right leg at the knee.” You can feel the tall man’s cringe, that’s how contorted his face just became at your description.

   “Survival should have been impossible…” he says more so to himself and begins pacing in thought.

   Your ears are suddenly assaulted by your friend’s shrieks, “Why did you fucking tell him?!”

   “He’s an angel, you dummy,” Yixing answers for you from the doorway, “he can tell when you’re lying. And he can sure as hell tell the difference between a zombie and a human when trying to heal them. Anyone could.”

   “…oh.”

   You shift under her weight, “I love you and all, but can you get off me now?” She nods shamefully and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, rather than on you. You join her.

   “I can’t think of an obvious solution to your predicament. That witch couldn’t have survived that attack, unless you’re remembering it wrong?” Chanyeol has taken to sitting down on the chair you somehow missed in the corner of the room, which is also colored in pastel tones. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just telepored it there or something while you were focused on the others.

   “I highly doubt it. It’s been ingrained in my mind since it happened. Does it help that she threw some kind of glass bottle of liquid at me while chanting something in what I think was Irakyul?”

   “Yes! It does! That means it wasn’t an ordinary curse at all! You most likely have to kill anyone who wants you to suffer in that way, or change their mind somehow. Not just the witch themself”

   “Who the heck wants me to live forever as a form of punishment? That’s an oddly specific thing to hope to happen to a person. I can only think of people who just want me dead or to stay alive as a test subject or something.”

   “I’m not sure. Although, as my  _best friend’s_  soulmate, I will do whatever I can to help.”

   There’s a beat of silence.

   “What?” you’re barely able to hold yourself back from snarling the syllable.

   “Your mark is on your left foot,” Yixing’s voice calls out, “I found it when trying to take off your socks and shoes so you didn’t get hyperthermia from the cold water in them. Why didn’t you tell me? I know you saw my mark.”

   You ignore his question and accusation. “Cold water? We were in the city.”

   Eloise clarifies your confusion, “We had to cross a river to get here. Turns out Yixing can enter the forcefields kinda like you can because he was bit by a ghoul when he was young. It stunted his growth and delayed his soulmark appearance. He’s the same soulmate that died before you could meet them back in 1994.”

   “Gee, thanks for answering for me Eloise.” Yixing gripes, “Really appreciate it.”

   “Wait,” Chanyeol interrupts what would have turned into an argument, “La- Yixing isn’t your first soulmate?”

   “Nope! She finds her soulmate, then he or she dies, then sixteen years later her mark goes from a scar to black again, then the process repeats.”

   “Thanks, Eloise, for answering for me. I really couldn’t have done that myself.” you say with higher-quality sarcasm than Yixing.

   “No problem you two!” your asshole of a friend replies smugly. This is one of the ongoing problems you have with her.

   “If you knew Yixing was your soulmate already, since it’s difficult to overlook a mark that’s on the back of a hand, and you’ve had other soulmates before, somehow, why do you seem angry that you’re bonded officially now? One would think you would be happy.” The angel is trying to piece things together so he can try to help fix things. It’s to be expected from his kind, but it’s still a nice notion.

   “And you never answered me when I asked why you didn’t tell me we were soulmates. It would have saved me a lot of panic.”

   They already know enough about you, might as well continue on. Besides, Chanyeol can tell truth from lies, and will most likely not appreciate you being dishonest right now.

   “If you want the honest answer, I was hoping to get to know you naturally, to break through the walls you have one by one, and now that’s kinda ruined. I may not act like it, but I value getting to know my soulmates’ different personalities without the force of the bond pushing us together and/or changing our entire personalities so we make a better match.”

   That’s the reason why you live, not to suffer or kill, although that is large part of it. You live to meet the next variant of your soulmate, to make sure they have an amazing time in their last years, months, weeks, even hours while you know them. You may be a monster who can kill without remorse, you might have killed at least three of your soulmates when it’s pretty much unheard of for soulmates to even think about fatally harming each other, but you live to make at least two lives easier. Eloise’s and– more often than not– your soulmate’s.

   Yes, you kill, but it’s usually for what you think is for the greater good or just out of self-defense. Yes, you suffer, but you have a feeling the universe only does that so you know what the less fortunate feels, so you know how to help when it’s an option. You aren’t helpless, even though it feels like it sometimes. You can’t prevent every death in the world, no one can. If it were possible the world would collapse in a matter of years due to overpopulation.

   Yes, you’ve lost all faith in humanity not repeating violent history, but that only makes sense with what you’ve experienced in the past 630 years. Yes, Eloise seems to have a better coping method. Although, in reality, your coping methods keep you from dying as often, while hers may get her permanently killed one day. She was born and has grown in a world that was far less cruel than the one you were born into, so of course she’s still going to have an abundance of hope. Yes, you may have changed for the worse, but it keeps you alive, and as long as you’re alive, you can continue to protect those who you deem worthy of protecting.

   “This might seem strange to ask, since you tried to kill me yesterday an all, but try not to change. Your personality was quickly growing on me so far.”

   His eyebrows furrow in confusion and slight curiosity. “…Thanks?” You nod an acknowledgement, and he continues. “Also, why aren’t you two more angry at me? Neither of you have really yelled at me yet.”

   “Oh trust me, I’m fuckin’ pissed,” growls the zombie, “I just release my anger differently. By beating the shit out of bad guys. Like the ones that were shooting at us earlier. I’m kinda like the hulk in a way.”

   “I feel like I would be much angrier if I didn’t know you were my soulmate. The pull between us keeps me from being especially angry at you. Plus, you look exactly like someone who I used to be very close with, as I mentioned before.” You glance up in thought and the ceiling’s gorgeous design gathers your attention. “Topic change, who painted this ceiling? It’s absolutely beautiful.”

   “I actually painted this myself.” Chanyeol declares proudly, “It reminds me of home while I’m here on missions and such.”

   “How did you manage to get every star in the exact place it belongs? That must have taken ages…”

   Chanyeol beams brightly, both figuratively and literally, seeing how his wings are shining white now. “I’m surprised you noticed! It did! I had to go back and forth from the heavens and here, taking hundreds of pictures and bringing them back, only to have them disintegrate sooner than I wanted because the whole…” He waves his hands to the ceiling and back towards the room repeatedly, or more accurately, towards the heavens and this “outside realm”. Nothing from the heavens can last in the outside realm for lengthy amounts of time and can’t enter the labyrinths at all. You nod in understanding, and he continues. “It took a lot of planning and preparing.”

   “It reminds me of home too,” you turn your gaze to the ceiling, “I used to use these stars to navigate and go places, before all this light pollution happened, so I really appreciate the view.”

   Chanyeol nods an acknowledgement and hums approvingly. You stand up, noticing how hungry you are. You ask Chanyeol if there’s food you can eat, since angels and people need different nutrients. He responds by leaving the room, waving for you to follow him. You do just that.

   His living room seems like one that would belong to a normal, somewhat-larger-than-average apartment’s, if it weren’t for the protective aura around the entire place, meaning he has a ward of some kind around the apartment. It has an entire wall that is one giant tv screen, and two couches sit on the opposite wall. One of them set directly behind the other on some kind of platform, replicating theatre seats for the large screen. There’s a coffee table in front of the couches, leaving a comfortable walking space for one person between it and the wall. The walls are white in here too, yet they somehow look less soft than the white walls in the bedroom. The windows in here are covered with black-out curtains that have been painted to look like different space anomalies, one of them being a supernova and another being a black hole. The carpet looks like its threads are made of silver, minus the sparkly shine that the expensive metal has.

   He walks through the door, and you follow to find the kitchen. It looks exactly like what a kitchen should look like. White tiles with grey borders around each one. Shiny, modern, grey appliances compliment the monochrome, marble countertops and black cupboards. A small, round, black table and two silver chairs sit at the end of the room. It’s obvious he lives alone with the lack of a dining room, or maybe he and any guests he has normally eat in the living room.

   You find some cereal and Chanyeol grabs a bowl and spoon for you. You memorize where he goes to get them so you won’t need to ask to find anything later.

   “I don’t feel any pull towards you.” Yixing continues the previous conversation stubbornly while you prepare your bowl.

   “Then why did you immediately regret your decision to stab me in that alleyway? Why didn’t you leave us-” you gesture to yourself and Eloise “-there to die or get captured when the darts started flying? Why did you bring me here to your friend to get taken care of? The pull is there, you just don’t have as much experience with detecting it as I do.” You plant yourself at the black table, noting the comfort of the cushions placed on the chairs.

   “Wait!” Chanyeol suddenly blurts out, “You tried to kill her?! That was the truth you couldn’t tell me earlier? What the heck Lay?!”

   “It’s not like I  _wanted_  to kill her! I was ordered to! I had to at least try! No matter how disturbed I was for it. I didn’t”

   “If you had a bad feeling about doing the deed, why still try?” snaps Eloise. You shoot her a face that says “ _don’t use that wording again_ ”, to which she shoots you one that means “ _get your mind out of the gutter_ ” and “ _you can’t tell me what to do_ ”.

   Yixing interrupt your silent conversation with a tone that’s almost shy, “I was told my soulmate was being held captive by the people I work for. That’s why I got into the monster hunting business in the first place.”

   You turn away from your bowl and to Yixing, “And you just believed them?”

   “They showed her to me when I was first captured. I thought I could feel the pull…”

   “If you could distinctly feel the pull as a human without seeing the mark, bit by a ghoul or not, then it was artificial. They set you up from the get-go.” Eloise  _finally_  says something sensible.

   “Well I know that  _now_! I always had my doubts about that woman anyway…” He quickly looks up and at the zombie, “Did you crush all the trackers and stuff earlier like I asked?”

   “That tazer I got you with in the alleyway deactivated any electronics on you. So as long as you don’t wear the clothes you have back at your place, you should be good.”

   “Good, because I don’t want to go back to that ‘business’ as they call it ever again. I never wanted to be a part of it in the first place.” he turns to you, “I don’t want them to find you again.”

   “And it begins.” you sigh. When he looks back at you with confusion, you continue, “That’s the bond talking. Remember, you just killed me yesterday, whether you wanted to or not. We’ve only met each other twice before now, and the second time  _you killed me_. You personally don’t care about me, it’s all the soul bond’s work.”

   “You’re making it sound like you want to fight this, that you don’t want me.” he looks and sounds strangely dejected. Even Chanyeol isn’t hiding how put off he is with how Yixing is reacting.

   “I’ve already said that I value growing feelings for my soulmates and vice-versa without the push of bonds. So yes, I want to fight it, but no, I don’t  _not_  want you. Actually, I want your affection more than pretty much every other soulmate I’ve had, with the exception of one, maybe possibly two.”

   Eloise puts a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n…”

   “You keep saying ‘other soulmates’? How exactly does that work out?” He looks rather concerned, and you can see how his hand twitches with what you’re going to guess is the urge to hold yours. Chanyeol is also looking more concerned for his friend, making it obvious that Yixing isn’t usually like this.

   You place your now empty bowl in the sink, surprising yourself with how fast you managed to consume the meal, then migrate to the couch in the living room, where everyone can be comfortably seated. You begin telling your long story from the very beginning.

   Not even Eloise knew this much about your life, you never told her exactly how you got the curse, or your life before it. She didn’t know your soulmates always died soon after you met them, she just assumed only a few of them did. You always avoided the topic like the plague (fun fact: you remember when this figure of speech was first becoming a common thing to say, and you mention as much during your story), but now all three people in front of you know everything. You finish your life story by addressing Yixing.

   “You look completely identical to Lay, and your nickname happens to be exactly that, too. As much as I hate to admit it, and I know it’s the bond speaking, but I really don’t want to lose you. Not again.” You meet his tearful gaze with your own forlorn one.

   It’s been too long, and you’ve gone through too much, so you don’t– can’t cry properly anymore. You’re strangely glad that Yixing and Eloise can for you. Chanyeol doesn’t seem to be particularly upset, but you can imagine that any angel of his rank will have seen some pretty dark and nasty things while going about their businesses. Besides, Yixing is your soulmate, so his emotions are reflected off of your own. If you’re upset, he’s going to feel upset, if you’re happy, he’s going to feel happy. Eloise, on the other hand, has been your friend for decades, so of course she’s going to react this way.

   She breaks the silence, her voice quieter than you think you’ve ever heard from her normally loud and obnoxious personality.

   “Holy shit… I knew you went through much worse than I did, but I didn’t think… I haven’t found my soulmate, but my brother had you, and the way he talked about how it felt…”

   “You don’t need to pity me, I’m a thousand years old. I’m used to the cycle.”

   “You shouldn’t have to grow used to it, and you’re only 629 years old, as you’ve corrected me before.” She tries to smile, knowing you are not good with these kinds of situations.

   “All of your soulmates have been human?” interrupts Yixing, voice cracking once from holding back tears.

   “Yes.”

   “Then I have hope.” he chuckles pitifully, fitting for the mood. He clarifies before you get to ask him to, “I was bit by a ghoul, as you know. That’s why I was sought out by this hunter’s group, because I can see what the others can’t. Demons, spirits, whisps, ghouls… I can tell zombies and vampires and angels apart from humans at a single glance, and I see the auras of humans if I concentrate hard enough. The company doesn’t know about those last two things, though, thank god.”

   “Well, I’m not from the heavens or labyrinths, but I can’t sense any especially evil or dark magic on or around you when I can usually pick up on that stuff quickly, so you must still be mostly human.”

   Eloise ignores your comment. “They’re determined to get us, aren’t they?” she rises up off the couch you’re all sharing and moves to the one on the platform behind the remaining three of you.

   “Yea. I don’t have a reason to lie or stay with that hell of an organization anymore. I found my real soulmate and two more people who can understand what I see and struggle with.”

   “All because they think I killed eight specific people.” you place your head in your hands, elbows on your knees.

   “That’s what I was told, but only a fool would believe you’d do something so rash after hearing your story. I’d say it’d have something to do with your curse, instead.”

   “Predictable.” you say at the same time Eloise says “That’s just fantastic.” Her phrase drips with sarcasm and yours with boredom, your reactions apparently taking Yixing by surprise.

   “I’m inclined to agree. I’ll have to try to find the leader of that place you’ve been working for, Yixing, maybe pay them a quick visit too.” Chanyeol turns to you, “If someone there knows about your curse, Y/n, then they could very well be the person or people keeping the magic alive.”

   “And if I said I didn’t want to start aging yet? That after so long of being young I don’t like the idea of being trapped in an old body for any amount of time?”

   He pauses to contemplate your suggestion of not wanting to disappear quite yet.

   “Then you can choose leave them alive, and they will eventually tell someone else about you and this curse, making it harder to stop this cycle when you do grow tired of it. That’s if this  _is_  how to undo this curse, and if the owners of that facility are what’s keeping you alive now. Both being true is a small chance at this point, since I’m not familiar with the specifics of dark magic whatsoever, for obvious reasons. I may have to send you to one of my reliable and tolerable contacts.”

   You nod in understanding. Chanyeol nods back, then says something about getting sleep, so it must have been a sunset you saw through the window earlier. Eloise says she’s going to bed, and that you should join her soon, so your sleeping schedule isn’t totally wrecked, because you still have work tomorrow. You tell her that you’ll be in bed soon, and she retreats to the room you woke up in.

   You then look towards Yixing, who looks like he needs a hug or something, so, without thinking, you offer one to him. He hesitates for a full moment– you can see the war he’s having in his mind– but he ultimately caves in and leans over into your embrace. Yixing rests his head snuggly on your shoulder, burying his face into the curve of your neck, and wraps his arms firmly around your waist. You bring your own arms up around his shoulders once he settles, placing one hand on the middle of his back, rubbing it soothingly, while the other lands high on his neck, fingers gently playing with his hair. When you rest your cheek on his head, you hear his contented sigh and see and feel him melt against you.

   You can’t help but remember that this is exactly how you and Lay used to cuddle all those centuries ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Sorry once again for the long wait! My excuse this time is that I have been busy with Art homework and this chapter was just tough for me to write! I had five different endings I liked for this fic, and this is the chapter where I needed to choose which one I would go with. Plus, I had to take my time with that depressing bit in the beginning, because I didn’t want to make it too depressing and accidentally fall back into my usual pit, possibly bringing any others who read this down with me. Yet I also needed to add that in, as it may explain some of Y/n’s choices that she makes later in this fic. Plus, I wanted to make sure the endless amount of Dialogue didn’t sound too unnatural, and that the people didn’t speak exactly the same (I don’t think I did a very good job with the second part, lmao) Whelp… This is an extremely long author’s note… So I’ll end it here! I hope you didn’t hate this chapter!  
> ~ Kara


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Swearing, Character Death (I promise no one will die in the next chapter!!), Non-graphic violence, Blood, Descriptions of injuries

   You wake up with a gasp, which would be completely normal if you were waking up from death. Except you aren’t– or shouldn’t be, anyway. However, judging from the distinct feeling of some kind of warm, tacky substance all over your torso and the aching pains coming from the same area, you were likely stabbed in the chest once or twice.

   You manage to squint your eyes open against the white light, and you desperately hope that you weren’t brought to a hospital of some kind. Books and Television shows always describe waking up in hospitals as blinding white lights and the smell of disinfectants. On second observation, though, this white light is soft, not harsh, and you don’t really smell anything in particular. That, and the strange beeping noise that books always describe isn’t there, only some muffled talking coming from the next room. You’re willing to bet your life saving that that’s where Yixing went.

   You make yourself sit up, easily ignoring the discomfort coming from your midriff and upper chest, and swing your legs over the edge of the couch where you were lying uncomfortably. You stand and stretch with a small groan. You feel kind of stiff and your clothes need to be washed and likely have holes or rips be patched up. You look down to assess the damage and–

    _Oh._

   You were stabbed way more than just one or two times if  just the number of rips and holes in your shirt has anything to show about it. Your new guestimate is closer to seven to ten times, but they’re all centralized in two areas; around your heart and under your left rib cage. Now that you’re not in the daze of waking up, you easily remember dozing off with La- Yixing in your arms. He must have woken up in the middle of the night and stabbed you in the heart before you could notice. While that’s a very unlikely hypothesis, considering you’re normally an extremely light sleeper, it’s what makes the most sense in this specific case.

   The muffled talking is starting to get a bit louder, and you can make out Yixing’s worried voice coming from what you assume is Chanyeol’s room. Really, all you want to do is go back to bed and sleep a little longer (when would you not?), especially since you haven’t died this many times within a week in several decades, so regenerating this much is making you sleepy. You almost give in and plop back down on the couch, but decide at the last moment to actually get up and see what’s going on.

   On your way to the bedroom, you strip off your shirt and use the clean(ish) back of it to try and get any pesky blood off of your torso. You knock twice on the door once you reach it, hearing nothing after you do for a few moments. Then Eloise shouts a cheery “Come in!”, and that’s all the invitation you need. Before you even fully step inside, you’re already asking questions.

   “What’s all the fuss in here, I could hear you from the couch and I’m pretty sure these walls are sound resistant or whatever.” you groan sleepily, more focused on ridding your torso and hands of blood.

   “Wh– What? Wha? How’re you–? It’s only bee– Huh?” Yixing stutters, causing you to look up at him. The poor man looks like he’s just about seen a ghost with how wide his eyes are and defensive his stance is, it doesn’t help that it’s obvious from his read, puffy eyes that he was crying very recently. He probably started freaking out after he had killed you and went to the other two for help or something.

   “It’s been like, what, two hours or something? Eloise?”

   She groggily rolls over where she’s laying on the floor with a groan and checks her phone for the time, still not really awake yet.

   “Jus’ ‘bout four actually.” She yawns largely, “See guys? I told you bandages would be a waste of time and effort. She’s fine. Go back to sleep. G’night.”

   Chanyeol ignores her and gets out of his bed. “Fascinating. You should have more scarring than the average person because of the speed you recover at, but…” he reaches out to rub just under your rib cage– you’re too tired to put up a fight this time, “Do you heal this quickly if you haven’t died? And what qualifies as dying in your case–”

   “Chanyeol, now is not the time for–”

   You interrupt Yixing with a lazy shrug, “I heal this fast when I’m dead, but only between six and eleven times faster if I haven’t died. And so far, dying for me is like dying for every other human, minus infections, sicknesses, and–.” you answer simply.

   “ _Please_  take this somewhere else because  _someone_  is trying to sleep!” Eloise chucks her pillow at you, which you swiftly catch and toss back without looking or really trying, “Unlike Y/n, I am  _not_  nocturnal! Good. Night!

   “I’m gonna go back to bed too. G’night.” You turn back to leave the room.

   “Woah! Wait!” Yixing calls.

   “Shh! Eloise is trying to sleep! She’s annoying without it!” You turn back around and enter the living room without a second glance. You hear two sets of footsteps follow behind you. Just great.

   “Weren’t you wondering what the commotion was, Y/n?” Chanyeol asks.

   “That was just a conversation starter. Yixing here killed me because I am a stranger who he was ordered to kill, except he got really upset when it finally set in that he killed his soulmate and eventually went to you guys to see if you could do anything about it like last time.” You deadpan, adding a nonchalant shrug at the end.

   Yixing breaks the brief silence, “You found all of that out within minutes of waking up from actual death?”

   You start fluffing the couch cushions as well as you can in preparation to sleep, “I’m 629 years old. I’m not stupid. Besides, I’m sure even you could figure all of that out within the same time frame if you really wanted to.” After deciding that nothing is going to help re-soften the dry, stiff mess you were just laying on, you simply flip the cushions over. “Also, waking up from death is very similar to waking up after a very long night of rest, just with more aches, pains, and stiffness. So I guess it’s like waking up after a long rest on an uncomfortable bed when you’re old.”

   “I am so so sorry. I–”

   “It’s alright. It isn’t the first time I’ve been killed by my soulmate, and it won’t be the last if you die before this witch or warlock or whatever they’re called these days.”

   Chanyeol steps in front of you, blocking you from laying down. “You said ‘if’, so you  _are_  going after them?”

   With a sigh, you straighten your stance, accepting that you’re just going to be up for a while longer.

   “Not for the reason you may be thinking. I just want to find who’s keeping me alive and I wanna know what kind of person this witch or warlock or wizard is. If they’ve got evil intentions, I’ll try to kill them for the greater good, but if they seem to be just hanging around, then I’ll leave them be for now.”

   Chanyeol shifts in his spot just enough so you can sit down.

   “And if you decide to kill them? You seemed very reluctant to meet with death permanently…”

   You continue with a sigh as you rearrange the pillows, which are thankfully free of blood somehow.

   “Honestly it’s becoming a real hassle to move around and change our identity with these new social security cards and cameras and stuff like that. Besides, I’ve never been good at living for the little things in life, and it’s not like I can fall back on the ‘live for your soulmate’ thing, because he wants me dead–” you gesture to your torso and your shirt laying at your feet, “–and once he dies, which’ll probably be soon if we don’t do something, then I’ll just run into the next reincarnation of him.” You finally meet the men’s eyes.

   “It took years of suffering, but I’ve given up hope of a happy or peaceful ending for myself a long while ago. Or, if you look at it a bit differently, this  _would_  be my happy ending, in a way. Leaving the struggles of life firmly behind me.”

   “Don’t talk like that–!”

   “Says the man who killed me a couple hours ago.”

   “I–”

   “Whatever you’re about to say, that’s the soul bond talking, not actually you.”

   “No–”

   “What do you think of me as a person?” 

   A beat of silence passes.

   “…What kind of question is–”

   “What kind of person do you honestly and truly think I am?” you repeat. 

   Another beat of silence.

   Chanyeol begins awkwardly shuffles backwards to his room.

   “I think I’ll go and let you guys talk this one out on your own. I’ll do some more research on the details of this curse and get back to you in the morning, Y/n. Goodnight.”

   The sound of a door shutting marks the beginning of a very tense silence.

   Yixing still hasn’t answered your question, and you don’t think he will. The logical part of his brain is probably trying to tell him that you’re nothing more than a target to kill, a pain in his neck, and more recently, an albatross on his shoulders. Yet, the soul bond you share is forcing him to think that you’re perfect for him, that if you both change just a little everything will work out perfectly, that you’re just a bit of a fixer-upper and the end result, your admiration and love, will be well worth the effort.

   After a few more minutes of tense silence and watching Yixing battle his own mind, you relay as much to him. He takes it much better than you expected, based off of how he’s been reacting to these types of accusations and observations lately.

   “Yeah… I think that’s what’s happening right now.”

    “Tell me what you  _actually_  think of me. I promise you won’t hurt my feelings or anything like that, I promise without a doubt that I have heard much worse.”

   There’s a moment where he seems to battle himself again, but ultimately drops his head down and mumbles something incoherent to you.

   “Can you repeat that?”

   “…you don’t seem to care about anything but yourself…” He looks genuinely upset that he said that to you. Time to fix that.

   You lean back and relax against the couch, portraying an image of being completely unbothered. “Not anything you or humans as a whole care about, not really.” you lie easily, edging him on to start insulting you– to get things off of his chest. It starts working.

   “You don’t seem like you care about whether or not I’m here with you.” He states more confidently.

   “Like I’ve said, as soon as your gone I have another soulmate waiting for me, so why waste my time on someone who actually wants me dead?” you lie painfully again, and this one must hit a certain spot in him because his face hardens.

   “From what I’ve seen spending time with you at the restaurant and here is that everything you do is just an act to get people to like you.” He’s not wrong, in a sense. “From what I’ve heard, Eloise works her butt off for you, but you always seem to brush her off.” Do you? You don’t mean to… “Just because you’re over 600 years old doesn’t mean you get to be an apathetic jackass like you kinda have been. Vampires manage to stay kind and genuine, so should you. You’re robotic and always act before thinking about how others would feel.” He takes a few breaths.

   “So far all you’ve really done is call me emotionally stunted and very inconsiderate.”

   Now here’s the real Yixing, getting angry at you right now, and not the stupid soulmate changed by the soul bond.

   “You’re a sick vermin that deserves to die. You tell lies and sob stories to people pity you and unconsciously trust you more just so you can use them. You’ve killed thousands of people, I’m sure. You have no problem with torturing people which is sickening. The thought of even touching you makes me disgusted and yet this stupid fucking bond makes me want to cuddle you and this mess is also your fault too! You guys didn’t have to tell me! You could’ve just let me live in blissful ignorance! But now I’m stuck going on this crazy fucking journey where all three of us are probably going to die all because of  _you_.” he growls the last word.

   Almost everything he accused you of is completely untrue, but if him believing those things is what’s going to help him separate “soulmate” thoughts from his own thoughts, then you’ll let him believe it for now, even if it’s downright painful to hear him call you those things. You clear your throat so your voice doesn’t crack when you speak again,  _stupid soul bond_.

   “When someone is basically immortal, especially when that person was born in the same era I was, then those things just happen.” You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and avoid tearing up and to give Yixing a chance to process your words before continuing. “These are your own thoughts. This is what you actually think of me. Anytime you feel the need to hold my hand or stare at me or literally anything else, think of this moment. Think of all the things you just said and remind you why us being soulmates was a mistake, or maybe a punishment to you– or more appropriately your first reincarnation, for the mistakes you all have made.”

   You stand up, meeting his eye almost threateningly. It’s killing you inside to say these types things to him, to the exact copy of your first love, but it needs to be done. You refuse to be forced together by the bond. You refuse to make him feel obligated to follow you around and have him die somewhere along the way. You can’t have him die. You won’t be able to stand watching Lay die in front of you again, even if it isn’t actually Lay. You can’t do it.

   “Right now, while your head is clear, think very carefully about whether you actually want to join us or not. You’d probably be dead weight for two people who can’t die. And I’m not completely immune to the soul bond either, so I may–”  _definitely will_  “–do things that will put myself and Eloise in danger if us three ever get into a serious fight. All of that and you’ll just be quietly miserable the entire time.” You back away from him, easily slipping into your cocky, carefree act you’ve had centuries to perfect. “What you wanna do is up to you, but I follow one rule.” Back to serious, “I never take someone’s consent seriously if they are under the influence of something, be it drugs, alcohol, or the soulbond.”

   You lay yourself down on the couch and get comfy for sleep. ”Go into the other room and think about what limits you want us to have. If you can’t hear, see, or feel me, the bond’s influence is significantly less, plus you are more yourself right now, so you’ll have a clearer head. Goodnight.”

   You roll so you’re facing the back of the couch, your back facing the room, effectively ending the discussion. You hear footsteps retreat, and you wait until a few moments of silence have passed after the door was shut behind him to let your facade splinter and cry silently.

   If only your curse could heal this painful ache in your chest like it did with the other ones.

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

   Distant footsteps wake you up, then a door opening– Chanyeol’s bedroom door, judging on the direction the sound came from– a moment later. You recognize the footstep pattern to be Eloise, so you let yourself calm down and wake up more naturally. You’re instantly aware of how cold you are, due to never putting a shirt on and the lack of a blanket. You’re surprised that no one commented on your lack of attire last night.

   “You should put a shirt on. You look cold.” Ever the mind reader as always (fortunately, she can’t actually read minds).

   “I’ll do as I please,  _mom_.” You lazily sit up with a stretch. “And I don’t have a spare shirt. We need to go back to our apartment today to pick up our stuff, if it hasn’t been ransacked yet.”

   “We heard what you guys were talking about last night.” she abruptly switches the topic to one you’d really not have. You skip to the end.

   “No I’m not apologizing to him. Yes, I understand that he is special and the pull is stronger, I was the one who pointed that out, but that’s all the more reason to leave him out of the mess I’m about to create.” You meet her concerned eyes with your own resolute ones, “If he comes with us, he will die. I am not going to let that happen. So let him think that I am a mass murderer and a torturer. Once upon a time that would have been an appropriate title for me–”

   “But it hasn’t been for decades–”

   “And he doesn’t need to know that.” There’s an underlying threat in your words that if she tries to tell or convince him otherwise, you will do something about it and/or to her.

   She holds your stare with the same amount of frustration as you do, but she cracks first for once. She lowers her gaze to the floor angrily, then turns her head from you.

   “Fine,” she spits, “I hope pushing him away like this somehow works out for you.” She practically stomps off to the kitchen without glancing back.

   “This won’t be my first time ‘round the block.”

   You sigh and lean back on the couch. Every time one of your soul mates sticks around, they end up getting killed usually entire years or sometimes even decades before the ones that don’t; that live their own life. You’re hoping you can make Yixing want to stay behind and keep low while you go out and investigate, so that maybe you can one day meet back up with him and start over, if he doesn’t move on first. You really can’t have him to die though. You wouldn’t be able to handle it, not again.

   You get up and go to the kitchen, where you notice your smartphone charging on the counter for the first time. You unplug it and go through various websites with the intention of brushing up on the current slang while preparing and eating your cereal. Ever since the internet became accessible to nearly anyone with a device, popular sayings and slang have come, became cringey, then gone what seemed like every month or so. You’ve always tried your hardest in the past to keep up with the current way of acting and speaking so you don’t seem out of place, but these days doing so almost feels like having a part time job. You learn that “yeet” is taboo to say unless done so ironically, even though just a year and a half ago it was the new big thing to say. It gets exhausting trying to keep up.

   “Still haven’t given up with sticking with the times?” Eloise asks as if you didn’t have yet another disagreement just minutes ago.

   “I refuse to be like some of the elderly who try their best to be “hip” and “in style” when they’re only making a fool of themselves.”

   “And yet you still say things like ‘cumberworld’, ‘leasing-monger’, ‘muck-spout’, ‘let’s back slang it’, ‘chuck-a-boo’, ‘don’t sell me a dog’–”

   “Okay, okay I get it. But there’s a point where if you use slang from back far enough, like the examples you gave, people just assume you read them in a book or something. And I don’t really say those things anymore.”

   “You literally just called me a ‘muck-spout’ the other day!”

   “Well I wonder why?” you smirk.

   “The  _fuck_  is a muck spout?” Yixing walks in wearing sweatpants and an old shirt, finishing the look with bed hair.

   “Someone who swears a lot.” Eloise answers for you, though not quite correctly.

   “More specifically, someone who is vulgar and talks a lot.”

   “Where the hell d’ya hear somethin’ like that?”

   “It was a somewhat common saying back in the late 1800s, Victorian era I think people call it now.”

   “Huh. The more y’know I guess. So what’s the plan?”

   Eloise begins running her mouth before you can say anything, “We’re waiting on Chanyeol to give us a name and a place, and then we’ll head on our way.”

   “Just the two of us.” you warn.

   “Unless you wanted to come.”

   “ _No_ , Eloise. We just talked talked about this!”

   “I heard you guys this morning. I’m coming, I don’t care what you say or think Y/n.”

   “Are you kidding me–”

   “No. I’ve been trained to kill and fight against creatures like the ones you’re going to go up against. I’m not a helpless child. I can hold my own. I’ve been doing it since I was barely a teenager, I’m not gonna hold you guys back. Besides, you’ve already dragged me into this mess. You can’t just, leave me here and hope my ex-bosses don’t find me.”

   “  ** _˝ø∂ ¯¯ ˆƒ ¥ø¨ ~~´~~ ≈ˆß† ¯¯ π¬ ~~´~~ åß ~~´~~  ©ˆ√ ~~´~~  µ ~~´~~  †˙ ~~´~~  ß†® ~~´˜~~ ©†˙ †ø  ~~˜~~ ø† ƒ¨ç˚ˆ ~~˜~~ ©  _ß†®å ~~˜~~ ©¬ ~~´~~ _†˙ ~~´~~ ß ~~´~~  åßß˙ø¬ ~~´~~ ß _|**”  **[** God, if you exist, please give me the strength to not fucking strangle these assholes.  **]**  you groan, looking up towards where any god supposedly would reside.

   “What did just say?” Yixing asks accusingly at the same time Eloise groans “Do you  _have_  to speak in that language?”

   You ignore them. “For the record, it is not my fault if he–” you point at Yixing “–gets killed. On the other hand, it is  _also_  not my fault if I die or become useless while trying to save you. Got it?”

   “You won’t need to save me, but understood.”

   Surprisingly, it’s Eloise that corrects him this time. “Dude. You’re with someone who is nearly impossible to kill and someone who is actually impossible to kill for good. You’re going to need saving at least once or twice during this adventure.”

   “I would not call this an adventure, but she’s right.”

   Chanyeol chooses this time to walk in, looking like he’s already showered and had breakfast.

   “I heard you guys talking about a plan. I couldn’t find any books or scrolls on the specifics of your curse, even after searching all last night and this morning. So, if you don’t mind of course, I’m gonna send you to one of my associates, Xiumin. He’s a dark mage who specializes in curses, runes, and the like, so should be able to help.”

   “And he’s not going to hurt or curse us or anything?”

   You smack Eloise’s arm. “ _Eloise!_ ”

   “What? What’d I say?”

   “Saying that is kind of like saying something very racist or sexist around humans. Most mages who specialize in dark magic are actually pretty cool and chill, just like most mages that practice any other type of magic are chill.”

   “It’s actually what you probably know as physical magic– the telekinesis, mind reading, floating, those types of magic– that gets abused most often by greedy and irresponsible people,” Chanyeol jumps in calmly, “because it’s the relatively easiest magic to learn and takes the least amount of resources to perform properly. Not many choose to go into dark magic because of it’s extremely complex and finicky nature.” Chanyeol grabs a piece of paper and a pen and starts writing things down

   “It’s saddening that they’re looked down upon by so many people just because of the stories humans twisted and passed down.”

   “So hagravens are somehow actually good?” Eloise asks with hints of sarcasm.

   “I’m gonna go shower and stuff while you try to fix,” Yixing waves his hand in you three’s general area, “this. You’re after Y/n. You’re starting to smell like you’re rotting.” He leaves the room with that remark.

   While Yixing is in the bathroom, you explain to Eloise that hagravens are cursed individuals themselves, and actually use more of a mixture of forbidden magic and necromancy that happen to have similar aspects to dark magic, but they certainly aren’t the same. You also explain that you have met a total of twelve morally acceptable hagravens in your lifetime, so it isn’t impossible for them to go against their instincts given by their curses, just extremely uncommon. By then Yixing is out of the shower and demanding that you get in the shower.

   You explain that you have no clothes and, as long you take the back alleys, no one will question the substance all over you. Yixing and Eloise both try to call bullshit, but then both remember the kind of area you live in. Yixing then tries to get Eloise to shower, but she doesn’t sweat or secrete oils, so as long as she eats meat so she doesn’t rot and appears clean, then she doesn’t need to shower. Yixing tries to call bullshit on this too, but he quickly gets shut down again. It’s while Yixing is pretty much pouting (some hunter he is) that Chanyeol finally finishes whatever he was writing and sketching and clears his throat loudly to gather attention to him.

   “This has where Xiumin is approximately located and what his mansion looks like. I’ve put a spell on this so only you three can see the ink on this paper, but still, just in case, I have not written Xiumin’s name on this or how to get to him safely. So you’re going to have to remember those things, okay?” You nod an affirmative, confident that you can remember, but Yixing and Eloise look much less sure.

   He tells you how to get to his manor. It really isn’t far away if you know and can use the shortcuts, but you aren’t sure if Yixing will be able to pass through any boundaries. It’s either take the long way around and try to get in through an official gate with forged special permission, which will take at least two or three weeks to do, or you three go through the closest entrance to the barrier and follow the path to the manor, which cuts the trip down to a week at most, and four days at best. However, the way you want to go is to push through the border that’s closest to Chanyeol’s place and go straight through the Shaded Forest, which will be only a two day travel at most.

   “I’ve called him earlier this morning, so your appearance won’t surprise him.”

   “Thank you Chanyeol. I’ll come back and visit at some point. I’m gonna commission you to paint the Orion constellation, I think it’s officially called now, and you have no say in it.” You tease with a smirk, making it obvious that he can, in fact, refuse if he wants to.

   “Even if I did, I’d accept. You three are always welcome here. It was a pleasure to have someone else besides Yixing and other angels over for once.”

   “Thank you.” You and Eloise say at the same time.

   You, Eloise, and Yixing all head towards the door, saying your respective goodbyes to Chanyeol. Yixing and Eloise step out of Chanyeol’s little cottage (you thought it was an apartment this whole time, whoops), but before you can follow them, Chanyeol grabs your wrist. You step closer to him, understanding that he has something private to tell you and listening for a whisper or a mumble, but instead you get the Irakyul language, loud, clear, and confident. It’s getting harder to find fluent speakers these days, sadly, so it surprises you a bit.

   “  ** _Îˆ∂ ˆ ˙ ~~´~~ å® ¥ø¨ ßπ ~~´~~ å˚ˆ ~~˜~~ © ˆ®å˚¥¨¬  ~~´~~ å®¬ˆ ~~´~~ ® _¿** ”  **[** Did I hear you speaking Irakyul earlier? **]**

   “  ** _ˆ åµ ß¨®π®ˆß ~~´~~ ∂ ¥ø¨ ˚˜ø∑ †˙ˆß ¬å ~~˜~~ ©¨å© ~~´~~  åß ∑´¬¬ _¯ _Chanyeol_ |** ”  **[** I am surprised you know this language as well, Chanyeol. **]**

   He smiles and nods briefly, then goes serious again. “ ** _Òåß† ~~˜~~ ˆ©˙† _¯ _∑˙ ~~´˜~~  ¥ø¨ †ø¬∂ µ ~~´~~  ¥ø¨ ∑å ~~˜~~ † ~~´~~ ∂ †ø ƒˆ ~~˜~~ ∂ ∑˙øµ ~~´~~ √ ~~´~~ ® ˆß ˚ ~~´´~~ πˆ ~~˜~~ © ¥ø¨ å¬ˆ√ ~~´~~  ƒø® ∑˙å† ~~´~~ √ ~~´~~ ® ® ~~´~~ åßø ~~˜~~  _¯ _†˙å† ∑åß å ˙å¬ƒ †®¨†˙_ |** ”  **[** Last night, when you told me you wanted to find whoever is keeping you alive for whatever reason, that was a half truth. **]**

   “  ** _Á ~~´~~ ß _¯ _ˆ† ∑åß_ | _ˆ ∂ø ~~˜~~ ø† ∑å ~~˜~~ † Yixing †ø ˚ ~~˜~~ ø∑ †˙ ~~´~~  ® ~~´~~ å¬ ® ~~´~~ åßø ~~˜~~  ˆ ∑å ~~˜~~ † †ø µ ~~´´~~ † †˙ˆß Xiumin ƒ ~~´~~ ¬¬ø∑ _| **”  **[** Yes, it was. I do not want Yixing to know the real reason I want to meet this Xiumin fellow. **]**  He lets go of your wrist to cross his arms, intrigued.

   “  ** _Å ~~˜~~ ∂ †˙ ~~´~~  ® ~~´~~ å¬ ® ~~´~~ åßø ~~˜~~  ˆß _¿** ”  **[**  And the real reason is?  **]**

   You hesitate, which doesn’t reassure Chanyeol at all his his tense stance is anything to go by.

    “  **≥ _ˆ ∑å ~~˜~~ † †ø ç¨† øƒƒ †˙ ~~´~~  ßˆ© ~~˜~~ å¬ß øƒ †˙ ~~´~~  ßø¨¬ ∫ø ~~˜~~ ∂ ƒ®øµ Yixing _|**”  **[**  …I want to cut off the signals of the soul bond from Yixing.  **]**

   “  ** _Å® ~~´~~  ¥ø¨ µå∂_**  **¿//**   ** _„˙¥ ∑ø¨¬∂ ¥ø¨ ∂ø †˙å†_**   **¿//**  ”  **[**  Are you mad?! Why would you do that?! **]**  the angel properly yells. It quickly gets Yixing’s and Eloise’s attention, but you’re quick to wave them off. You can tell that they’re still paying more attention to you two, though.

   When you go to speak, you can’t quite lift your eyes from the ground to meet Chanyeol’s inflamed ones.

   “  ** _Ó ~~´~~  ˆß µˆß ~~´~~ ®å∫¬ ~~´~~  ∑ˆ†˙ †˙ ~~´~~  ßø¨¬ ∫ø ~~˜~~ ∂ ƒø®çˆ ~~˜~~ © ˙ˆµ †ø ¬ˆ˚ ~~´~~  µ ~~´~~  _¯ _å ~~˜~~ ∂ ˆ åµ µˆß ~~´~~ ®å∫¬ ~~´~~ ˚ ~~˜~~ ø∑ˆ ~~˜~~ © †˙å†  ~~´~~ √ ~~´~~ ®¥†˙ˆ ~~˜~~ © ˙ ~~´~~  ˙åß ∫ ~~´´˜~~  ∂øˆ ~~˜~~ © ƒø® µ ~~´~~  ˙åß ∫ ~~´´˜~~  ∂ø˜ ~~´~~  ¨ ~~˜~~ ∑ˆ¬¬ˆ ~~˜~~ ©¬¥ _¯ _ˆ ~~˜~~  å ∑å¥ _| **”  **[**  He is miserable with the soul bond forcing him to like me, and I am miserable knowing that everything he has been doing for me has been done unwillingly, in a way.  **]**  

   Your answer seems to calm Chanyeol a lot, but not really comfort or reassure him. There’s really no way to do that for someone who just found out you’re basically going to force half of your soulbond to become invalid or nonexistent just to get a taste of genuinity.

   “  ** _ˇ˙å† µå˚ ~~´~~ ß ß ~~´˜~~ ß ~~´~~  _¯ _ˆ ß¨ππøß ~~´~~_**   **≥**  ”  **[**  That makes sense, I suppose…  **]**  He places a sturdy hand on your shoulder, effectively making you meet his eyes. He doesn’t look cross or confused anymore, his features smooth save for worry lines. “  _ **ˆ ˙øπ ~~´~~  ¥ø¨ ˚ ~~˜~~ ø∑ ∑˙å† ¥ø¨ å® ~~´~~  ∂øˆ ~~˜~~ ©**_  **|**  “  **[** I hope you know what you are doing.  **]**

   You nod confidently, “ _ **ˆ ∂ø**_ **|**  ”  **[**  I do.  **]**

   He pats your shoulder with a sigh and a shake of his head and a kind smile, “Now get out of here and do what you need to do. And stay safe!”

   You smile back and and wave at Chanyeol as you leave the small building. “Thanks for the tips! You stay safe too!”

   He smiles back, “I will certainly try my best, Y/n. Again, any of you are welcome back here at any time, unless you are actively being followed by any suspicious characters. Au revoir!”

   “Valete!” you call back as the other two call out “Bye!”

   “What is up with you and different languages today?” Yixing asks, “What language is Valete?”

   “I remember it being the formal way of saying goodbye to someone in Latin, I can’t quite remember how to say the casual way anymore, which kind of sucks.”

   Eloise groans obnoxiously, “Please don’t tell me you fucking know Latin too,” her voice lowers to a grumble, “fuckin’ heathen.”

   You smirk teasingly and evilly, then your face scrunches up in concentration  without your permission. It’s been a long while since your last Latin class. After a lot of thinking, you notice that you remember plenty of root words, but almost none of the suffixes that show person (first, second, or third) and conjugation. You try your best anyway, just so you can get on Eloise’s nerves.

   “Magnum bellum… venitus? Et timeo, sunt? Suum? Sumus? Sumus! non para- tus? Betus? Bitus? Oh, parabi _mus_..! I think…”

   “What the hell are you going on about?” Eloise is losing her patience. You ignore her.

   “Magnum bellum venitus, et timeo sumus non parabimus. It’s my very, highly likely incorrect way of saying ‘There is a great– or large– war coming, and I fear we will not be prepared.’ in Latin. Though I’m pretty sure I messed up so many of the endings and I think I left out a few words too? But I don’t know what the would be.”

   “What the fuck, Y/n?” Yixing swears in what sounds like bewilderment.

   “The last time I took a Latin class was fourteen years ago, I think?” It might have been longer ago than that, but either way, it’s still been long enough for you to have forgotten nearly everything you were taught.

   Eloise answers your silent request of clarification, “It was one of your college classes from 2001 to 2005. So only 13, really, and those were kind of intense classes too. I’m surprised you’ve already forgotten that much.”

   “I literally only took that class because some people told me it was too hard and to not even try. So retaining this information wasn’t a thing I needed or particularly wanted to do.”

   “Why do you still go to college? I mean, why not just sign up to be a hunter and make a living doing that?”

   You spend the rest of the short journey to the other world’s barrier explaining why you do the things you do. That you go to college so you can blend in, that you blend in with humans instead of becoming a full-time hunter so you don’t lose your humanity again (he hears the “again” in your sentence, but doesn’t say anything about it). You also explain why you can’t legally be a hunter anymore (you were once taught to aspiring hunters as an example of exactly what they  _shouldn’t_  do as a hunter decades ago, and you don’t want to risk any older members or history fanatics recognizing you), and why you don’t really want to be a hunter, anyway (you say you found the work tiring and tedious, but the truth is you can’t trust yourself to stop when needed, it’s why you got the nickname “Red Menace” back in the day). You tell him the details about how you move around from place to place, knowing he won’t snitch, and how it’s been getting harder with the escalation of technology and general safety, and how you were almost recognized the other day by someone you knew twenty years ago. By the time he’s satisfied, the barrier is in view.

   “Perfect timing!”

   “Wait, we’re going  _inside_  the other realm? I thought we were picking up your guy’s stuff?”

   You answer him before Eloise can, “We are. This is just a short cut we use sometimes.”

   “So we’re just gonna hop through the barrier?”

   “Yup!” chirps Eloise, bounding over to the ginormous, blue wall.

   “Won’t that kill us?”

   “Maybe you, but Eloise and I are pretty much immortal, so we won’t be too affected.”

   “Wait, what do you mean ‘ _maybe me_ ’?”

   “You’re still human,” Eloise calls from over next to the barrier, “so this could hurt you,  _a lot_ , although I highly doubt you’ll  _die_ ,” she sends you a pointed look, which you answer with a shrug, ”I think before anything you just won’t be let inside.”

   “This is fucking bullshit.”

   “Watch your profanity.” you tease, reaching a hand towards the powerful wall carefully.

   Eloise salutes playfully with what sounded like a giggle before hopping through easily. You’ve long since learned not to question her.

   “Fuck you.”

   “Maybe later,” you respond cheekily.

   You don’t give him a chance to make a comeback before shoving him into the glowing, blue surface. You don’t hear any screams, and neither he nor any parts of him bounce right back out, so you assume that everything went relatively okay. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the zap of pain you’re going to feel, close your eyes, and leap through. The feeling of what you assume is like being struck by lightning jolts and tenses your whole body, which is why you leap through instead of walking or a simple hop. You make it through to the other side in one piece this time, but have to sink down to your hands and knees because you are too weak and in too much main to stand correctly right now.

   In the distance, you hear people’s voices, but there’s a certain ringing in your ears muffling what they’re saying even further. You suddenly feel a wave of concern and fear, and you recognize it to be your soulmate’s, which means he’s alive and probably one of the voices trying to talk to you. You try to shuffle into more of a kneeling position, but that backfires immediately and you’re coughing up blood, and quite a bit of it too. At first you think and hope it’s due to your ears popping and it somehow making your nose bleed too, which means the blood would slide down your throat so you’d have to cough it up, but no part of your face is bloody besides what you’ve coughed up, and with that observation you cough up even more red.

   Maybe you  _didn’t_  make it in one piece, after all. How incredibly inconvenient.

   The ringing in your ears and the pounding in your head finally dies down enough for you to hear and understand Eloise as she explains that this is more or less a common thing for you jumping through the walls like this, and that when going through side gates you usually only a small zap of pain that’s easy to get over. You cough up a bit more blood and a sharp pain from your gut suddenly makes itself known. You manage to look up and make eye contact with Yixing through blurry vision.

   “I think–” you croak, causing another bloody coughing fit, “some of my insides were left behind–” another red hacking fit, “dunno what parts thoughgoddamnit–” and even more coughing.

   You finally give up and curl into fetal position, which makes the pain infinitely worse, somehow, and sluggishly straighten yourself out on your side. Paying attention to yourself now, rather than just trying to get in a more stable position, you notice that your breathing in all wonky, so it isn’t your lungs or windpipe, and you still feel your stomach and intestines, and you don’t think any other organs would cause coughing up blood. You cough up more after you try to swallow, and your heart is going bat-shit crazy, and if it’s parts of your esophagus and heart that’s been left behind, it would be a much faster process to just die and come back in an hour or so, even if you will be coming back with a splitting headache from dying so often lately.

   Eloise and Yixing are right above you now, so you thankfully don’t have to speak too loudly to get them to hear you, because you’re pretty sure that would make your date with death. Maybe you won’t die in the next chapter? You can only hope at this point. You make a poor attempt of clearing your throat, gathering your companions’ attention to your face so they don’t see you pulling out the dagger you carry with you everywhere that doesn’t have a metal detector.

   “Keep on the lookout for demonic creatures. We gotta keep moving, I’ll be back between an hour and seven, depending on what’s missing.” A shorter, weaker hacking fit, “I give ‘carrying Y/n duty’ to Eloise because Yixing has the weapons and skills to fight them off properly.”

   You don’t get to see or hear their reactions because you shove your blade into your heart with practiced precision, and let yourself be dragged into nothingness.

• **◊** • **◊** • **◊** • **◊** •

   When you wake up with your usual gasp, you’re laying in a large, soft bed instead of being carried around clumsily by Eloise, which makes multiple alarm bells sound in your head. You snap your eyes open and dizzily look around the place, not caring if there are cameras or the like watching you; the gasp was enough to alert anyone that you’re awake so you need to act fast rather than stealthy for now. The room is decorated with blacks and reds, and in any other scenario you’d find it almost aesthetic. You’re laying on a king-size bed that’s red with black designs and accents, and there is no evidence that anyone else has been in the room.

   You force yourself up and out of bed with a groan and a growl, quickly giving up trying to fight the splitting headache you’ve got right now and instead looking for your clothes. They aren’t anywhere to be found, and normally you would pull off the loose dress whatever creep put you in this, but you’re wearing nothing under it, which  _really_  does not help the situation. Predictably, there are no actual weapons of any kind in the room, but you manage to climb onto the back of a loveseat and twist off the sharp end of a curtain rod. While you do so, you happen to get a good look out the window, and there is no forest in the area, so you must be pretty far from the Shaded woods, therefore far from the town you were going to cut through to get to your apartment. You hop back down and place your ear against the only door in the roome. You don’t hear anything, so you silently open it just a crack.

   You still can’t hear anyone, so you open it just a little father, just enough to stick your head out to look around. It’s empty, eerily empty. You can’t help but think that this is a trap of some kind as you push forwards into the corridor of greys and gold.

   What people used to call your “Hunter Mode” activates in your head.

   You get into a stealthy crouch and become painfully (both literally and figuratively) aware of everything around you. You spin the curtain end to hold it like an awkward dagger and sneak down the hall to the right where there is another large corridor that crosses into this one. As you get closer to the corner of the intersection, you press yourself against the wall opposite of the one your door was on and keep a very close eye on the hallway that continues in the opposite direction from where you are now. You get down on the ground on your stomach so you can slowly peak your head around the corner near the floor so if anyone is there they have less of a chance of seeing you.

   It’s a good thing you do that, because there’s a young woman, a maid or servant of some kind, walking towards where your spot. You think you could probably fit into her uniform, which would be very helpful to your mission of finding your friends. You carefully pull back away from her potential sight, hold your makeshift weapon in your mouth, and stand up straight, sticking yourself flat against the wall. You carefully listen to the tap tap tap of her heels while listening for any possible witnesses, and ready yourself to pounce on her when she gets close. You see the bottom of her skirt and her leg first, and you jump out and punch her in the side of her throat with lightning fast reflexes, and carefully catch the unconscious woman before she can fall to the ground. You pick her up, and with one last glance around your surroundings, you carry her to your room, dress yourself in her uniform, put her in the loose dress you were wearing, and tie her to the bed using the flat sheets within just a few minutes.

   You walk back out confidently; you belong here now, after all, with your uniform proving your residence. You stride towards the intersection of hallways, not hesitating to turn left where the woman came from. You never turn your head, but you are constantly monitoring your surroundings with your eyes and ears, looking for anyone who may know who that woman was.

   You continue going down random hallways and going through random doors for some time, simply trying to get an idea of where Eloise and Yixing could be, when you finally hear a commotion coming from where you think you came from. People probably realized the lady you knocked out was gone and went to check things out, which means you need to ditch this uniform for another one before anyone can find and take a good look at you. You speed up your walking, but not enough to be suspicious, but you still haven’t run into anyone, which is very bizarre for a place like this. You brush your hand high against your thigh, where you managed to tuck and hide your improvised shank, feeling more confident and comfortable knowing that it’s there.

   Finally, you come up to a door that leads to a spiralling staircase with red carpets. There’s no movement coming from down there, so you deem it safe to use, that no one will immediately recognize you. You can’t see any cameras or anything, but your head is still hurting and throbbing way too much to tell if there’s any kind of specific aura being emitted around here. You start racing down the stairs, being mindful of any obvious traps or surveillance. You make it to the bottom and go to open the door just as someone else reaches to open the door. You back up against the wall and hope that the cloaked man doesn’t see you or pay you any mind, but he apparently doesn’t need to.

   He simply turns around and looks you in the eye as if he sensed you there, and that mixed with the fact that whatever magical power he has is strong enough to blur your vision with pain makes it obvious that you need to try to run.

   You rip open the door and sprint down the new corridor, decorated in golds and whites. You think you hear him call out to you, but you aren’t falling for the whole “ _Y/n! I’m actually your ally! I saved you!_ ” schtick that a lot of your enemies tend to think will work. You’re an ex-hunter, not stupid. You slip your hand under the skirt your wearing and pull out your awkward weapon. Hearing the faint pitter patter of footsteps behind you over the ringing in your ears, you make a sharp turn into what is apparently a ballroom in hopes of getting distance from him somehow.

   “Y/n! Hold on! I’m not going to hurt you!” the cloaked man calls behind you, predictably.

   You stop at a decorative piece of armor holding a shield and a sword, and decide that this is a good time to use the end of that curtain rod so you can grab a real weapon.

   “Bullshit!”

   You throw it at the man like a dagger, and he quickly pulls up a powerful ward, which only makes you feel worse and doesn’t really slow him down. You manage to pull yourself together, though, and grab the sword off of the display.

   “The amount of times I’ve heard that lie in my life–” he’s within sword range now, so you swing, which he just manages to duck “–is far too fuckin’ many!”

   You barely manage to dodge a spell he shoots at you, then you spin and make to strike him, but he pulls up a ward. That throws you off enough that you stagger a small bit, but catch yourself and move in time when he hurls another spell at you.

   “Please, Y/n! You were sent here by Chanyeol! I’m Xiumin!”

   “Then where the fuck is the Shaded forest?” You swing at him again, and he gives up the spell throwing and summons a bound staff powerful enough to make your ears start ringing again. “Xiumin was a ways away from where we were!” You blink through the tears that blur your vision and stand straight again, not knowing when you hunched over in the first place. “Where the  _fuck_  are my friends?!”

   You swing, and he blocks with his staff. He moves to strike your neck, aiming to knock you out rather than kill seeing as the staff is not sharp whatsoever, but you see it coming and block it with your sword, then almost successfully strike a counter attack.

   “They’re probably in the dining room–” you try to slash at his legs, but he jumps up and hovers, which only makes your condition worse “–just please stop fighting! I do not want to hurt you!”

   “How many times must I say that trick–”

   “Y/n!”

    _Eloise?_

   You jump out of the way so you can see Eloise on the upper level ring around the ballroom’s perimeter while keeping an eye on whoever the fuck this hovering guy is. She could just be an illusion with how weak you’re being ight now, especially seeing how conveniently she intervened. You and Eloise have a code only you two know, and you change it every time you have to use it. You decided it was needed after she was tricked into following a stranger and almost getting killed.

   “Mountains– are high!” you shout between pants.

   “And the ocean fuckin’ sucks! What the hell are you doing Y/n?! You’re not even supposed to be out of bed yet!”

   You glance from Eloise, to the stranger, then to Yixing who just entered the open space. The stranger isn’t attacking you anymore, and doesn’t seem hostile at all now that you’re not on the offensive. He actually ands on the ground and dismisses his bound staff altogether, and that alleviates quite a bit of pounding in your head, leaving nausea and lightheadedness in its wake. You look back up to where Eloise and Yixing are quickly climbing down the stairs. You don’t relax for a second though; you need answers.

   “He’s actually Xiumin?”

   “Yes! He is!” Eloise calls just as the stranger– Xiumin states “Yes I am.”

   “Where the fuck are the Shaded Woods?”

   “I have a protective field around my castle. No one can see inside it, and I’d rather not have my ‘grand view’ be of an old, dark forest, so I changed how we perceive it looking outside as well.”

   “Why was I dead for way longer than an hour, and why are we not at our apartment?”

   Yixing answers this time, There were a shit ton of these demonic creatures in the forest that attacked us and they got to you first. Eloise said that you regenerate from wherever your head is, so we– uh– we just kind– uh. Took it. Just took your head– er, what was left of it anyway– with us, and ran here.” You can feel through the bond that Yixing isn’t lying in the slightest.

   “You’ve been dead for almost two and a half weeks ‘cause all we had left of ya was about three-fourths of your head. We’ve already gone back to the apartment and got all of our stuff and put it in our rooms, and work thinks you went in for emergency surgery.”

   “I placed you in what I call the medical area of my Castle, where my magic is concentrated into soothing, calming, and healing auras, versus out here where it’s more energetic, and the bedrooms which have simple relaxing.”

   “Oh.” is all you end up being able to say.

   That actually explains a lot, actually. The pains and aching everywhere, how bad your head’s been hurting, the lack of undergarments and real clothes, laying in a bed of red and black  _to help hide any blood while you healed_.

   You can finally feel the adrenaline leave your body, leaving aching bones, sharp pains almost everywhere else, and the same headache from earlier but a million time worse. Now you know why Xiumin’s magic is messing you up so badly; the demons probably had something to do with it. That and it doesn’t help that your cause of death was technically magic, so you already have a natural weakness to magic that will last for a little while.

   “Y/n, you should really be in bed, you don’t look too hot…” Eloise’s concern sounds kind of muffled, and your head feels like it’s filled with helium.

   “I’m okay…” the way you sway in your spot contradicts your statement. You drop your sword. “I’m… fine. And very sorry. I’m sorry…”

   You collapse on the ground, catching yourself on your hands and knees, then dropping onto your side with a grunt. You hear concerned shout that you know are not as far away as you hear them. You grip and massage your head hoping it’ll ease the pain, but it predictably does nothing. Next thing you know, some kind of bottle being pushed to your lips, and if you had the strength you would have grabbed the wrist of the person trying to offer it to you, but you can’t. Instead, you swing your head to the side, which causes a wave of lightheadedness and nausea to crash through your system. It’s so  _so_  long since you’ve felt nausea, and you almost welcome the feeling, welcome the reminder that there was a point in time where you were actually human, but alas, the contents of the bottle make it past you lips and you don’t try to fight it anymore.

   You must have only blacked out for a second or so, because you wake up in the exact position you last remember being in. The one key difference, though, is that you aren’t in any kind of pain anymore and have a familiar aftertaste trapped in your mouth.

   “You gave me a numbing potion, grade four out of five. Just enough for me to sluggishly move around.” It brings you back to the days when magic charms and potions were accepted among society, even sought out by plenty enough. You miss those days.

   “You know your potions, I’m impressed. And you put up one hell of a fight, there, despite being in obvious great pain. You’re very skilled.”

   You stand up with a groan, the strength of this potion makes you move like you’re drunk, and it hasn’t even relieved all of the pain– your joints feel like they’ve got sandpaper between them.

   “Try stubborn.” You look up a Xiumin, “I sincerely apologize–”

   “No need to be.” He walks past you, gesturing you three to follow him out of the ballroom area, “You have strong instincts and much more skill than I’m sure any one of us here can imagine. Although, I assume you think it comes from being alive and young for so long, am I right?” You nod confidently. “Well, that’s part of it, but this curse also gives you abilities beyond bringing you back from the dead, no?”

   Now that you know this is the real Xiumin, you start naming everything this curse grants you. The more information he has, the easier he’ll be able to give you details about the cure and what happens after in the case whoever is keeping you alive needs to be stopped. Also, maybe if he understands your situation more, he’ll be more willing to cut the soul bond’s force away from Yixing for you. One can only hope.

   “Sensing the auras of different creatures around me, being able to differentiate the types of magical auras, being able to tell if someone found their soulmate or not by looking at them. I regenerate up to ten times faster than the average human with current medical technology, I am able to regrow limbs and organs, and apparently entire bodies now, too. I am much faster and stronger than the average human of my build and gender, and my senses are a bit stronger than the average human as well, if I’m correct. I don’t think I’m missing anything…”

   He sits you all down in the middle his large dining table, with him sitting just across from you three. When you sit, you instinctively smooth your skirt so it lays flat and doesn’t wrinkle or fluff up while you dine, and you belatedly realize that you’re still wearing one of his maid’s outfits. Except, now that your head is pretty much cleared and  you can focus, you can tell that his maids aren’t real people at all. They’re just whisps that were given a human form. You decide to not think about or question where he got these functioning bodies for them to possess as they serve the four of you roast beef, salad, sautéed vegetables, and bread as if everyone was expecting you to wake up.

   “Eloise here was telling me any details she could about your condition while you were upstairs–” he pauses briefly, “…regenerating. I’ve found some forbidden spells that matched her description, and I can remember three that match yours as well.”

   He casually teleports a large book onto the table as he takes a bite of the roast beef. You watch Eloise prepare her second helping already. You take this as your cue to actually get some food in your system, since that’s probably what’s causing the severe nausea and pains in your gut. You take a bit of everything and start nibbling, careful to not eat too much too fast and make your body reject it. Xiumin continues after opening his book to a bookmarked page.

   “A witch throws a potion and chants a curse which then causes all of these side effects. And while these three forbidden curses are very similar, they all have very different ways of breaking them. The difference is in what she chanted, exactly.” He takes another bite of his beef.

   You swallow your bite of (delicious) salad before speaking, “I’m not entirely sure what she said word for word myself. I know she said something about me probably being a child of God, so she couldn’t kill me as proper revenge. She started telling me something about how I should go on to live forever while everything dies and crumbles around me? Basically just the purpose of my curse.”

   “Ah, the very straight forward chant, then. Did she ever finish it?”

   “I’m pretty sure she didn’t. Werewolves got to her first.”

   He nods, “Then that means your witch is more likely than not alive.”

   You, Yixing, and Eloise all snap your heads up with a “What?”, conveying different levels of concern and disbelief.

   “It basically says here that the curse she most likely put on you was meant to keep you alive forever as long as someone remembers you and believes you should be punished with eternal life, as Chanyeol suspected. However, if she didn’t finish the curse like you say she didn’t, then you only remain immortal and unaging as long as that witch is alive. Therefore, when and if you decide to kill the witch, you will begin to age again and will be vulnerable to death once more.”

   “So I’m screwed if this lady dies by anyone else but my hand. Does this mean she somehow found a way to stop herself from dying that night, heal herself,  _and_  move on to figure out how to stop herself from aging?” You sit back in your chair in thought.

   “Yes, somehow.”

   “And there’s absolutely no way that me being alive is keeping her alive and well too?”

   “No such spell exists. And another thing. This curse slash blessing grants both of you all of the abilities you listed earlier, plus a much better memory, a quicker comprehension and understanding of new things, faster and more accurate reflexes, more accurate and stronger instincts and gut feelings, and the target of the curse can use small bit of the witch’s main type of magic.”

   “What? How?” Your food is all but forgotten, not that you could’ve eat very much right now, anyway.

   “Your witch must favor the magic stealth and luck, because I did not sense when you woke up and started moving around like I was supposed to and always do, and I didn’t sense my whisp go unconscious either, even though they are each directly connected to me. The only reason I was going upstairs was because she didn’t come back down. I also assume it was you two–” he points at you and Eloise”–who nearly killed that forbidden mage in town and saved the girl?” You both nod hesitantly, while Yixing just grows more concerned, “No one knows who did that still, even though your faces were caught on camera. The images were blurry and unusable. Just like how it’s interesting that all of the carnivorous, demonic entities in the forest targeted you first, and pretty much ignored your friends while they ran here even though demons prefer the chase and the hunt over actually eating.”

   Yixing states your thoughts, “So this person is going to be extremely difficult to find at best.”

   “Yes. But let me ask you this.” he pushes his empty plate out of the way and rests his elbows on the table, folding his hands one over the other. “Why do you want to break this curse?”

   “I don’t,” you answer without hesitation, “Not yet, anyway. But inevitably there will be a time when I want things to end, or a time where things  _need_  to end because of the witch magically attached to me turns malicious and greedy.”

   Xiumin’s head slightly inclines curiously, a hint of amusement and/or interest spark in his eyes.

   “That’s almost narcissistic of you to assume that you’ll be the hero in that situation, and not the other way around.”

   “That’s bold of you to assume that I haven’t already become the villain in my story, and that I haven’t simply learned that the hard way in the past.”

   “Is that why you refuse so determinedly to be a hunter? Or are you not allowed due to an old reputation? Red Menace?”

   Fuck. Your partners don’t need to know about this. Whatever. Fuck it. At this point, does it even matter? No, it doesn’t. You only live once, right? Or in your case, as many times as this witch still remains alive, and you plan to keep it that way.

   “I’ve always hated that name. The could’ve come up with a better one.”

   He tilts his head a tad more almost menacingly with the tiniest smirk, “I’m inclined to agree.”

   A beat of silence passes, and you feel the strange urge to defend yourself, for once.

   “I’ve only ever killed those who have killed or…  _taken advantage of_  innocents.”

   “By what standards?”

   “My own. Which grew to be wrong after a while.”

   “I’m glad you know that now. Who finally made you listen?”

   “No one, I figured it out on my own after a little break from work.”

   “Would you live that life again?”

   You think through your answer, not wanting to give the wrong one while being psychoanalyzed by this mage and watched by your only two friends, if Yixing could even be considered that. Neither of you have moved or shifted positions since this discussion began. You break that streak now by leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms.

   “How about you let me ask you a question. How do you know this about me? I haven’t been a hunter of any kind ever since women could work in America, and I haven’t been a licenced hunter in over a century and a half. It must have taken some serious digging from someone who isn’t a hunter.”

   “Not really, considering I  _am_  a hunter. I have a licence in the other room if you need proof.” At your silence, he continues. “Now why don’t you answer my question now? Why aren’t you hunting anymore?”

   You sigh and give “I do not trust other people’s judgement of who should live and die, and I no longer trust my own, either.”

   “Would you go back to hunting if you could?”

   You pause, thinking through your answer carefully.

   “Maybe, if I had Eloise and–”

   “This is a yes or no question, Y/n.”

   You hesitate again, meeting the mage’s serious eyes. You’ve almost forgotten that Eloise and Yixing are sitting on either side of you, they’ve gone so silent.

   “…No.” All three people appear shocked at your answer. “No, I wouldn’t. I’m not me when in a fight. The whole reason I chose the missions I went on was because I didn’t trust anyone else except myself to do those ones properly. If I’m not myself during them,” you lower your gaze to your plate, “then I can’t trust that I’ll do a proper job.” You force yourself to take another bite of food for your own good and as a distraction.

   A few, silent moments pass where people continue to take small bites of what’s left of their food, even though all of you are full already. Eventually, Yixing tells you that he’ll be waiting for you upstairs in the room they’ve been staying at on the weekends, then grabs Eloise’s arm and leads her out of the large dining area. You break the silence left behind.

   “Since you’re kind of psychoanalysing me right now, I’ll admit that I still get nightmares of what I did to this day, and that back during those times I dreamed of downing my next victim, so I’ve made progress from the last time I’ve actually hunted,  _doctor_.” You smile and shake your head in an almost teasing manner.

   “You’re definitely different than what the books say, if this ‘psychoanalysis session’, as you call it, and the word of your friends are anything to go by. Consider me an ally when you hunt down that witch, if I’m still alive and well enough when you do so, anyway. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

   “Thank you, I appreciate it. And thank you for not maiming me on the spot back in the ballroom, and I apologize for knocking out your whisp’s husk. Are they okay? I couldn’t even tell they weren’t human”

   He gets up from the table with a small stretch, and you follow suit.

   “Yes, they’re perfectly fine. They were able to wake up their body after a few minutes, so no damage was done.” He begins walking out of the dining area, his posture no longer stiff or overly professional. Naturally, you follow his lead– this is his castle after all.

   “Thank goodness.”

   You pause, trying to decide whether to ask now or if you’ll get a chance later tomorrow. You’ll be at work tomorrow if everything goes your way, which it likely won’t. Still, you aren’t entirely sure that you’ll even be here tomorrow afternoon, so you’ll ask now.

   “May I ask you a favor?”

   “Shoot.”

   “Is there any way to nullify the effects that a soulbond has on someone?”

   He doesn’t miss a beat, “You or Yixing?”

   “Yixing. I can fight the force of the bond well enough, but he isn’t doing well with one of his targets being his soul mate, so I wanted to make it easier on him. That and I hate how I know he isn’t genuine with his care with me.”

   Xiumin sighs heavily and turns to you with a genuine look of  _something_  on his face. It’s close to pity, but not quite.

   “Normally I would advise against doing this because it’d be emotionally painful and exhausting for you to have him cut off like that, but I won’t pretend I don’t know what kind of things you’ve put up with in the past.”

   “So you’ll tell me how it’s done?”

   “More like I’ll place the spell for you if he consents, but you have to go through the books I have of ‘Red Menace’ with me and tell me which parts are true and which parts are just rumors.”

   That’s an easy bargain.

   “Then we have ourselves a deal my friend,” you smile and reach out your hand for a handshake, which he accepts. “I’ll be sure to leave the area when you want to ask him, so he isn’t being as manipulated into saying ‘no’.”

   He drops your hand with an amused smile, "That would be helpful, yes. No go on upstairs, they’re probably worried about you by now. I’ll send up a grade three numbing potion when it’s time.”

   You thank him again, then head up to your room. When you get up there, Yixing and Eloise are already in bed and neither mention you speaking to Xiumin for so long, or the fact you are still wearing the maid’s outfit from earlier. You find your pajamas in one of the drawers of the dresser, change, and throw yourself onto the third bed in the large room. You’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow, and nobody can blame you after your crazy month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys!! It’s been a while since I’ve updated this, huh? This is literally as far as I’ve ever planned, so whatever comes next will be as much of a surprise as me as it will to you. All I know is that no one is going to die in the next chapter for once Lol. Also, I did almost no editing, so I know for a fact there are inconsistencies between this chapter and the previous three chapters.
> 
> Now, I do have a question for anyone who may be reading this… Do you guys want this to be a longer, slow-burn fic, or would you rather this be a shorter fic, aiming for 10 chapters or less? Thank you so much for all of your guys’ support and love! Keep being awesome y’all! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Find me and Nunchi on Tumblr too [@nunchiwrites](https://nunchiwrites.tumblr.com)!!


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